Nerve Damage
by tiltingaxis
Summary: AU "So his knee split open. Okay, he gets that. And apparently some bones stuck out. Fine. He busted his knee cap, like, really badly and pulled a stupid nerve somewhere.So okay, it was really, really bad."
1. Nerve Damage

**A/N: This is my first real AU story, so hopefully I'll pull it off. I'd just like to thank those who have voted for me for the finchelfanfictionawards. I'm so glad Sleeping Beauty has touched so many people. It was a special one for me, and the award means a lot. You guys are awesome! 3**

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><p><em>I see through your clothes<em>

_Your nerve damage shows_

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><p>The hit comes out of nowhere.<p>

One second he is running towards the finish line, the goal post and victory so close that he could taste it, and the next he's flying through the air and landing on his arm, wincing at the unmistakable crack that comes with it. And then comes the deadweight, two large, mammoth-sized players landing right on top of him, one of them crashing with a grunt on his bent knee.

He thinks he hears another crack, but he can't be sure through the yell of pain that leaves his throat. The world is suddenly so very quiet and his brain is starting to get fuzzy, when he hears her shrill scream break through the white noise, screaming out his name.

The world comes back to him, and he hears voices, so many voices calling out his name. He tries to pull his head up to say that he's fine, but he can't seem to move. He feels the crushing weight lift off him and suddenly the Bieste is all up in his face, her expression filled with panic and fear and he wonders why she looks so scared because he feels fine, except for the whole not being able to move thing.

"Talk to me big guy. How many fingers do you see?" she asks urgently. He's trying to look, but he can't see her fingers. _Where are they?_ he wants to ask, but his mouth's just isn't working. _Great_, he thinks. It's the first game of the season, and he gets the feeling he's about to be benched for the next few.

_What a way to start to the year._

"Stay with me Hudson."

He blacks out.

Xxx

When he comes to, he's in the hospital and his left leg is up in the air, his right hand stuck in a cast. He kind of feels like he's been hit by a pick-up truck, and he's not so sure if he doesn't look it either. He tries to clear his throat, but his mouth is too dry and he ends up in a coughing fit, which wakes his mom up from the chair she's been sleeping on.

She's on him in a flash as she asks him if he feels okay and if he needs anything. He feels like shit and his throat burns, but she looks like she hasn't slept in days (_has_ it been days?) and there's a crazed look in her eyes as she rests a hand on his forehead.

"I'm fine," he croaks out, trying to smile. "Can I just get some water please?"

"Of course baby," she answers, relieved. He watches as she pours him a cup and notices the way her hands are shaking.

"How long was I out?" he asks, when the water has smoothed down the burn in his throat.

"You hit your head pretty hard," she answers slowly. "Almost 48 hours."

_Wow_.

"Wow. That was some knockout, huh?" he says, his voice light as he uses his good hand to grab her trembling one. She grimaces as she stares at him. And shakes her head.

"Finn. I can't- if anything happened to you-"

She stops speaking and buries her head in his chest, and it sucks that he's making his mom cry like this.

"I'm fine mom," he tells her gently, trying his best to give her a hug with his good hand. "I'll be on my feet in no time."

She says nothing. He doesn't think much of it.

Xxx

The next time he comes to, the Bieste is all up in his face again, and he can't reign in the gasp of surprise that leaves his mouth.

"Hudson," she says gravely, standing over him with her hands crossed over her chest. "How are you feeling Quarterback?"

"Like I just got nailed to the ground by two meatheads," he answers, grinning. He's pretty much immobilized, what with that leg in the air and that hand stuck to his chest.

"You look like hell," his coach tells him and yeah, it's not like he doesn't know that.

"Evans is starting in your place for the next game," she tells him quietly and he feels that sinking feeling in his chest. This _sucks_. It's his _final_ year. It's supposed to be his time to shine. He says nothing, his face grim as he looks away. The frustration is building up inside him. He's been stuck in this bed for days. He needs to get better, as soon as he can, because he'll be damned if he misses his chance.

"Hudson."

"Yeah, coach?"

"Have you talked to your doctor?"

"No." He frowns at her furrowed brow, because he suddenly gets the feeling that there's something going on. "Why?"

"You should."

"Why coach?" The door creaks open, and they both turn to see his mom walking in with his Xbox in one hand and his lap top in the other. She smiles at Bieste and they make small talk as she fluffs up the pillows behind him.

When Bieste finally leaves, he realizes he didn't get an answer.

Xxx

It's been two weeks, and people have been coming by in droves. The team comes by a few times, and he has a little trouble trying not to glare at Sam every single time. It doesn't help that the dude keeps avoiding his gaze either.

Puck comes by every day. He talks a lot of shit ninety percent of the time, but Finn's still stuck on that bed, and he's grateful for whatever company he can get.

The Cheerios come, and he doesn't understand why she's not with them. Santana avoids his gaze when she him tells she doesn't know.

He keeps waiting for her, for that soft blonde hair and her cool, green eyes.

It's been two weeks, and she never comes.

Xxx

"No. No, there must be something you can do."

He lies perfectly still on his side, his eyes still closed even though he's been awake for almost thirty seconds. It's just awkward to wake up in the middle of his mom and Dr. Chang arguing.

"Mrs Hudson, I understand that you're upset, but it's important that he-"

"This isn't about me," he hears his mom cut in, and he knows it when there's a silent _young man_ at the end of her sentence, that his mom is giving the doctor her scary mom face. "I don't see the point in upsetting him any further when you tell me that it's still inconclusive-"

"That wasn't what I said. I said that there was a small-"

"There must be something."

He thinks there's a small crack in his mom's voice. There's a pause before Dr. Chang continues quietly.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Hudson, but Finn-"

He turns on his back, trying to make as much noise as he possibly can while still pretending to be asleep. He opens his eyes slowly and finds his mom's pale face looking down at him.

"Hey," he says hoarsely. "What's going on?"

"Nothing sweetie. Dr. Chang just came by to check on you."

Behind her, the doctor nods at him curtly.

"Cool," he says. He wonders why his heart is beating hard enough to jump right out of his chest.

Xxx

The Xbox is pretty fucking useless when he's got one hand in a fucking cast.

xxx

She finally comes when his leg finally touches his bed and when his hand is sling free. It's his second day of partial mobility, and he's realizing pretty quickly that a wheelchair is only fun when you can get out of one whenever you want to.

He's devouring a pretty sweet cup of jello, when he hears the soft knock and that familiar blonde head pops out from behind the door.

"Hi baby," she greets him brightly as she strides confidently into the room. He's still staring at her, a little in confusion, when she stops in front of him and lands a soft peck on his lips.

"What are you doing here?" He doesn't even mean that in a spiteful way. He's just honestly surprised.

"Visiting you, silly," she tells him affectionately, running one soft hand down his chest.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"I mean I've been in here for close to three weeks and you couldn't have cared less yesterday," he answers. If he's a little too pointed, she doesn't let it show.

"I told you, I've been really busy-"

"Yeah, I can tell."

"Finn."

"What?"

He's feeling snappish. He's restless as it is because in seven more days, he'll be in this hospital for a whole fucking month, and as much as he hates school, he hates these four walls even more. She's sitting carefully on the edge of his bed, one hand gently running through his hair while the other rests on his chest, and he pretends it's not even a little comforting.

"I was scared," she whispers quietly. "You didn't see what happened Finn. I saw everything. I saw the way you landed on your arm, and the way those two fell on you. You have no idea how traumatising that was. I'm sorry honey," she continues, looking him in the eye as one lone tear fall from hers, and he knows he won't stay mad.

Xxx

"I was so afraid that I was going to find you bruised and battered, you know how squeamish I am."

"Yeah."

"I'm so glad to see you looking better Finn," she tells him brightly. "You'll be back on your feet and scoring those touchdowns again in no time."

"Yeah."

She smiles at him, and continues talking about the Cheerios, and how pathetic the new batch of freshmen is. He wonders how she can't hear the doubts in his replies.

Xxx

"You're looking better," Dr. Chang remarks, looking at his chart. He nods his head enthusiastically. Puck came by after school, and he'd had the most fun he's had in a while as they rolled him repeatedly down a stretch of road in the middle of the garden, careening towards the wall of the hospital. Each time Puck had pushed him a little harder and took a little longer to reach him until he was literally two seconds away from crashing.

"I can't wait to get out of these and get back on to the field," he says confidently. Besides him, his mom tenses visibly.

"Finn," Dr. Chang says slowly. "We need to talk."

Xxx

He doesn't understand, not really.

So his knee split open. Okay, he gets that. And apparently some bones stuck out. Fine. He busted his knee cap, like, really badly and pulled a stupid nerve somewhere.

So okay, it was really, really bad.

But that's what this stupid cast is for right? That's why he'd spent almost three whole stupid weeks with his leg suspended in the air and being super uncomfortable, because it was supposed to fucking fix whatever the hell was wrong.

So what the hell does it mean when the doctor tells him he can't play football anymore?

What the fuck does it mean when he says that his leg won't be able to take it?

He thought they fixed it. Weren't they supposed to _fix_ him?

The doctor told him that his damn knee won't be able to handle the pressure while his mom squeezed the life out of his good hand like that was supposed to make him feel better. It fucking doesn't.

He doesn't _understand_.

He's alone. His mom left to do God knows what, and it's crazy quiet. It's so quiet, he can practically hear his own thoughts as it bounces and echoes against the four walls. It starts to get a little harder to breathe as the room seems to get smaller than ever before, as his breathing gets more and more erratic. He feels his whole body shaking, with what he doesn't particularly know.

It could be fear, because the moment those words left the older man's mouth, and once his brain had finally registered them, a cold wave of anxiety had washed over him and it's still refusing to leave.

It could be frustration, because that has been simmering somewhere inside of him ever since he'd woken up to the sight of his battered body exactly 18 days ago.

His fist comes down hard against his mattress and as he releases that loud, broken sound from his throat, the tray of food that's been placed in front of him goes careening to the floor in a loud crash.

He realizes that it's anger.

Xxx

"Finn."

He stares determinedly at the ceiling, blocking her out.

"Honey, I know this is hard. I can't imagine-"

The sob rips out of her, and suddenly he feels angry again.

He's so fucking pissed at everything that he could cry.

"We'll get through this Finn. We will."

"Leave me alone mom," he says quietly, his eyes screwed shut as he tries to keep his emotions in check. "Please."

Xxx

Puck comes and leaves in five minutes, once he realizes that he's talking to a brick wall.

Quinn comes, and leaves after three, crying as she tells him that she's sorry.

The Bieste comes, and he pretends that he's asleep.

When his mom is in the room, he turns into a statue.

xxx

Nurse Johnson wheels him quietly into the room. He doesn't know what he's doing here, other than the fact that he hasn't really spoken to his mom in almost a week, and she tells him that maybe therapy would be the best idea. He'd said nothing to that either, even though his head was screaming at how pointless it's going to be. The only thing that would matter is if he'd wake up one morning and Dr. Chang tells him that he had misdiagnosed, that his knee is strong and good, and that he can play football again.

Nothing else but that would matter.

Xxx

They sit in a circle and he stares angrily at the wall. He doesn't belong here. He doesn't belong in the hospital. He belongs on the field, to the game that's coming up in two days.

He doesn't belong here.

He realizes he doesn't belong anywhere.

Xxx

"I know you."

He turns to find a girl next to him, sitting primly on one of the plastic chairs that make the circle. He's been to this stupid thing twice, and he never noticed her before.

Granted, he doesn't notice anything.

"You're Finn Hudson," she continues at his slight acknowledgment, and he swears to God, if she says anything about him being the school quarterback, he'll force himself to wheel away with his good hand.

"You threw a slushie at me last year."

The words startle him enough to warrant a second look. She's staring at him blatantly, her eyes large and brown, boring into his. He notices the way her dark hair frames her face and the way her voice stays light despite her words. He hasn't thrown a slushie at anyone for slightly more than a year, ever since he realized that he was popular enough to get away with not doing it.

He's never really been into the business of making other people feel miserable.

"I um- do you want me to apologize?" he asks stupidly. He thinks it's the first time he's said a complete sentence in two weeks. She's just startled him into speaking. She looks at him and shrugs her shoulders.

"You can do whatever you want with it. I'm Rachel Berry."

He stares blankly at the hand she extends.

"What's the matter? Afraid that you might catch my loser germs?"

Still, her tone is light. But she startles him into movement.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes earnestly, shaking her hand. Her grip is strong, and her hand is soft, and for a split second, her face breaks into the most illuminating beam he has ever seen.

"It's nice to meet you Finn Hudson."

Xxx

They don't say much. They don't really say anything.

He just finds her plopping down on the seat next to his wheelchair every three days without a word.

He's late one afternoon, and she's sitting in between the accountant–cum-robbery victim, and the dude who broke his legs in a car crash. There's a space on the opposite for him to wheel his way in.

He spends the next five minutes disrupting the session as he tries to force his way next to her.

"Hi," he whispers, once he's settled and Mrs Linklater continues with her sad story. She says nothing, and he thinks maybe she didn't hear him. Mrs Linklater pauses to take a breath, and she turns to him with a pretty smile on her face.

"Hi."


	2. Meltdown

_Used up, burned out, always got a hand out_

_Ain't nothing here for free_

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><p>The first time he can move his hand without feeling like he'll die from the pain, he glares at anyone who tries to help him with the wheelchair.<p>

Xxx

He's been to these sessions for close to three weeks now. His hand is in a smaller cast and that shooting pain in his leg has turned into a lesser, numbing feeling. He still hasn't said a word. But neither has she, for that matter, and that makes him feel like it's okay not to. Besides, Natalie, their counsellor (or shrink or head doctor or whatever), told them that speaking is totally voluntary anyway, so he decides that he just never will.

Sometimes he thinks he sees her just itching to say something though. He sees it from the restless way she'll fidget in her chair when someone makes some offhanded comment. Like when Mrs Linklater says something about one of those Jonas Brothers being talentless hacks (don't ask), and there's an actual frown on her face. Or when Sandy the accountant called him a giant ogre because he got in the older man's way, and her eyes went all huge like _she_ was the one who was insulted when all he did was shrug his shoulders. But she never does, talk he means.

He catches himself looking at her more than he should, but honestly, she's more interesting to him than actual therapy, and she's pretty much the only reason his afternoons don't completely suck balls three times a week. She has her iPod on her always, and he means like _all_ the time. It's hot pink and it's always in her hand and he thinks she doesn't want people to see it, because she always keeps it close to her, and whenever someone comes near, she tries to cover it up in her hand, like she's afraid that someone is going to look at it and see what she's listening to or something.

Her hair is always down too. She never ties it back or tucks it behind her ears and sometimes it drives him a little crazy, because all he wants to do is just push it back to see her face clearer. When he catches himself thinking this, he always looks away.

They still don't really talk to one another, but he doesn't really mind it, and he thinks that she doesn't either. They just sit next to each other, no matter what. After that one time where he was late, he notices that she always leaves her bag on the floor to her right. She'll literally put it in the middle of the floor so that no one would drag a chair over and she'll only pick it up again once he enters the room. She doesn't really have to do that, because he's never been late since, but he likes that she does it anyway.

She doesn't smile a lot, but she always does when she sees him, and that kinda makes him happy because everybody else is doing the exact opposite whenever he's around.

He likes it that she's not like, demanding anything from him. Like, she's not forcing him to speak or to tell her how he feels and shit like that. She just lets him sit next to her and be quiet and feel comfortable about not wanting to open his mouth. He thinks maybe he lets her do the same thing too. He still doesn't know what she's here for though, because unlike the rest of them, she looks perfectly fine. He doesn't dwell on it, or question much because well, he knows what a bitch it is to be interrogated about his feelings.

Everything else about therapy annoys the hell out of him though. Like, he swears to God, if he has to listen, one more time, to Anna-the-one-who-fell-down-a-flight-of-stairs-and-broke-her-hip and how she's worried that her cat, Ms. Tubby isn't taken care of properly, he'll tear his hair out with his left hand. Rachel always looks at her with these sympathetic eyes though, and she'll shake her head and mumble "Poor Ms. Tubby," and then he'll feel totally guilty for cursing that damn cat's existence.

He doesn't really care that Sandy Ryerson's too afraid to step back into his apartment or that John-with-the-broken-legs thinks he'll never be able to step inside a moving vehicle again.

He's got enough shit to deal with without thinking about other people's too.

Xxx

His visitor count has gone down from the whole population of McKinley High to zero.

He guesses since he's no longer the school quarterback and is basically nothing but a pathetic loser with a busted knee, no one cares anymore.

Well, who cares?

Fuck them.

(He ignores the stupid voice in his head, wryly telling him that they can't exactly visit when he won't let them in.)

Xxx

His mom is still trying to speak to him.

It's just easier to pretend that he's asleep.

"You can't ignore me forever," she whispers, her palm warm against his cheek before he hears her leave.

He opens his eyes and watches her retreating figure, and remembers distinctly being seven, and being pissed at his mom for making him the last kid waiting around at school for the millionth time.

"_You can't ignore me forever_," she'd said, trying and failing to start their stupid car as he looks pointedly out the window.

She was right.

He couldn't.

She'd stopped at the Dairy Queen and bought him a Snickers Blizzard and things were fine and dandy until the next time she was late.

Ice cream won't get them anywhere this time around.

Xxx

She brings a pen to therapy. It's all shiny with like, multicoloured beads stuck all over it. The ink is pink.

He knows this because she spends almost the whole time drawing and coloring over little stars on his busted leg.

Xxx

"What's this?" his mom asks in confusion as she looks down at the pink patterns on his cast.

He shrugs.

"Did you make a new friend?"

He shrugs.

Xxx

"Finn," Natalie calls as he's wheeling himself out. He stops and looks at her warily. She smiles, and he guesses it's supposed to look reassuring or something. It's not.

He turns to look at Rachel, who's looking down at him like she wants to know if he's okay. He smiles and waves at her before wheeling back around.

"How are you doing?"

He shrugs.

"I see that you and Rachel are getting along," she continues. "It must be nice to have someone your age around."

Where is she trying to go with this?

"You could be good for each other," she tells him simply when he doesn't respond. What's that supposed to mean?

"She's cool," he says shortly before he rolls out the door.

Xxx

She leaves her iPod behind. They're in therapy and a nurse walks in and tells her that her doctor is calling, and she stands up so quickly, her iPod falls on her chair.

He's kind of surprised that she didn't even notice. But it was the first time where she didn't say goodbye either.

He waits for the session to end, which feels a lot like pulling teeth, and nonchalantly picks it up before he leaves

Xxx

He stares at the device in his hand, his fingers looping the pink wires of her earplugs.

He's been going back and forth for hours.

_It's private._

_It's not like she's got it locked._

_She doesn't want people going through her stuff, don't be an ass._

_She hasn't exactly said that to your face, has she?_

_How would you like it if she came in here and started going through your shit? _

_I don't have any shit in this stupid room._

_Well if you did-_

"Argh!" He growls in annoyance as he flings her iPod to the side. When did he become the kind of dude that argues with himself in his own head?

"_You could be good for each other."_

She's never told him what she's in here for. To be fair he hasn't either, but c'mon. He's not even trying to brag, but who doesn't know what the hell happened to Finn Hudson at the first game of the season? It seems kind of unfair, doesn't it?

He plugs the earphones in, pushing away the guilt he's feeling and trying not to feel like such a chick when something so undeniably pink is in his ear. He presses play.

"Rachel Berry, singing On My Own, taken from the seminal Broadway classic, Les Mis. Take two."

And she starts to sing.

Xxx

Dr. Chang is in his room, looking at his chart again and rattling on and on about physiotherapy as his mind wanders.

He remembers the color of her hair, and the way her eyes light up when she smiles. He remembers her voice, and how the sound had seemed to envelope him completely, until the only thing he heard, as his eyes fell close at two in the morning, was the melody and the tune that she carried.

"Finn." He snaps out of his thoughts, looking up to see his doctor's deep frown. "This is important, don't you think?"

Finn meets his gaze, staring unwaveringly as the comfort that filled him moments before disappeared and that simmering rage steps in again.

"What's the point?"

Xxx

He finds her already in her seat, her face restless.

He doesn't really understand what the deal is with his heart, and why it's kind of beating really hard, but it is, and he hesitates for a second at the doorway. He catches her gaze and she gives him a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and he suddenly feels like a dick because he's pretty sure he knows the exact reason why she's so upset. It's hidden under his pillow back in his room.

He comes up beside her, and for the first time since she's ever spoken to him, there's an awkward silence that hangs between them. So he says nothing.

It's another day of therapy, and another day of hearing someone bitch about how his life has been flushed down the crapper, because that's the reason why they're all in this stupid room three times a week isn't it?

Except, he _still_ doesn't know why she's here. Listening to her iPod has given him zero answers and like, a million more questions to add to the already massive pile.

There's a new kid today, and Finn thinks that he looks vaguely familiar. Maybe if half his face aren't swollen and his nose doesn't look like it's been broken, he'd be recognizable.

"Kurt," he says, in a tone that's oddly defensive when Natalie asks for his name. In fact, even the way he's sitting is defensive, like he's just waiting to lash out at whoever tries to come close. He thinks he kind of gets that feeling. He wonders if that's the way he sits too.

He gets distracted when he feels her fidgeting in her seat. He can't see her face all that clearly, and once again that crazy urge to just push her hair away returns. She's listless all throughout the session, and he can honestly say that he has absolutely no clue what had happened either. Natalie calls the session to an end and before she could move, he has one hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he says, his voice sounding far more confident than he actually feels. "Can you come with me?"

She looks at him with mild curiosity before she nods slowly and stands, going behind him to push his chair.

He doesn't tell her that he can do it by himself.

Xxx

The walk to his room is silent, with the occasional direction from him on where to turn. When they finally reach his door, he turns to grin at her before pushing it open with his good foot. She wheels him up to his bed and without a words, pulls herself up to sit on it, her feet dangling over the side.

It's kind of funny how he's never noticed that she's so tiny before.

"I erm- I have something," he tells her as his left hand feels for the space beneath his pillow, feeling for her iPod. The edge of his fingers brush against it, and he pulls it out a little nervously. "Here."

The relief on her face pushes the guilt he feels into overload. She must have been so worried all weekend when it's been with him all along.

"Thank God," she mumbles, snatching it from his hand and holding it close to her chest. She looks up at him and smiles, before realization dawns on her face and her expression changes into one of suspicion.

"You erm- you left it on your chair," he says, not looking her in the eye.

"Oh. Did you- did you listen to it?"

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't look her in the eye either.

"That was private," she says, her voice low and hurt, and he feels like such a fucking tool. He should apologize. He _wants_ to apologize.

"But you- your voice-" he says instead, and he doesn't know what he's doing. "Why would you keep that to yourself?"

She says nothing for the longest time, and he finally looks up when he sees the teardrop that falls on her clenched fist.

"Rachel-"

"I never asked you about your pain Finn," she says quietly as she pushes herself off the bed. He looks at her in surprise as she stands before him. Vaguely, he notes that she's barely got an inch or two over him this way. "I thought you'd respect me enough to show the same courtesy."

He says nothing as her silent footsteps make their way out of his room.

Xxx

He wheels himself slowly on Wednesday afternoon, hesitant as he reaches the familiar door. He screws up the courage to push it open. He glances around the room and she's nowhere to be found. The new guy, Kurt, sits on his right side.

The chair on his left remains empty for the next three hours.


	3. The Silver Lining

**A/N: This could only be described as a filler chapter, since it did not turn out at all the way I planned it to, and thus my story has now also taken a different turn. As always, thanks for all of your alerts and reviews and it's really interesting to know some of your theories on where this story is going to go =). Reviews = love!**

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><p><em>Hell-bent, waiting for a Godsend<em>

_Kicking down the door, waiting for a sign_

* * *

><p><em>He's running.<em>

_He's gripping the ball in his hand as tightly as he can as his vision zeros in on the goalpost. He hears them behind him, loud and thunderous, their jeers and laughter coming nearer the harder he runs. He tries to find the energy to push himself faster, and looks on in confusion as the goalpost moves further away. _

_He could have sworn he was getting close._

_The closer he gets, the further it moves, and the voices on his back keeps getting louder._

_He hears her screaming, and from the corner of his eye he sees Quinn yelling at him to stop. Is she fucking crazy? They're going to run him over. How can he stop now?_

_So he keeps running. He runs and runs and runs._

"_It's over Finn."_

_He slows down in confusion when he hears his mom's voice._

_He turns, just in time to see the two, huge, sneering figures closing in on him._

"_It's over."_

Xxx

"Finn!"

A hand is shaking him urgently and his eyes fly open with a gasp. The room is dark, safe for the light that's coming in through the open door, and his back is slick with sweat as his heart pounds crazily against his ribcage. He's still catching his breath when he notices the figure standing next to his bed.

"Rachel?" he whispers, confused. He can barely see her, just enough to make out the outline of her body, and he wonders what time it is, and what she's doing in his room when she's been doing a great job at disappearing for the past week.

"You were having a nightmare," she says instead, one hand still wrapped tightly around his bicep. "You were mumbling really fast."

"Sorry," he answers sheepishly, embarrassed. That stupid dream haunts his sleep almost every night. He can't even remember the last time he's had a good night's rest.

"What do you dream about?" she asks quietly. Her thumb rubs slow circles against his shirt, and he feels his nerves slowly calming down.

"I-"

He wants to tell her that it's personal, every single instinct in his body ordering him to say nothing, to tell her to mind her own business. But he's not exactly in any position to do that, is he? And anyway, he finds that it doesn't piss him off all that much when the question comes from her.

"I dream about the game," he mutters quietly, his eyes fixated on the outline of her hair. Somehow, it's easier to speak when he can't see her face. "I keep trying to reach the end, but it keeps moving away, and I hear them coming up behind me, and there's nothing I can do about it. Like it's- it's- what's that word, the one about something that's going to happen no matter what?"

"Inevitable."

"Yeah, that. Like it's inevitable. Like they're gonna jump me no matter how fast I run or how quickly I move. It's like- like-"

"Like you can't get away," she finishes quietly. He can't see her face, but he wonders if she can see his, and the way it's contorted in surprise.

"Yeah," he agrees. That's pretty much it. She says nothing as she removes her hand from him and grips his bedframe instead. "What are you doing here?"

"Can you move a little?" she whispers. He nods until he realizes that she probably can't see him, and moves a little to his right. He feels her weight bearing down on his mattress, and he can't explain why his breath seems be caught in his throat. He's barely breathing as he feels her hips press against the side of his torso.

"We're friends, right?" she asks him suddenly.

"Well, yeah." At least, he kind of hopes that they still are.

"I like you," she tells him candidly. Apparently when she's in the mood to talk, the girl is disarmingly honest. "I don't really know why, since our only encounter left me with a stained blouse and delayed brain freeze."

"I'm so sorry-"

"But I do," she continues, cutting him off. "Because, when I saw you that first day in therapy, it felt like you'd get it, how I feel."

"How do you feel?" he asks carefully, when she keeps silent.

"Angry," she whispers. "Frustrated. Like everything is so monumentally unfair."

"That's about it, yeah."

"And it's because I knew who you were, I guess. I've been here a while so I didn't really know what happened. But this town is small, and you hear things and- anyway, I knew what happened to you."

"Oh." He doesn't really know what to say to that. It's not like he didn't think she knew, but it's still weird to hear her say it. It's a little crazy to know that _everyone_ knows about what happened to him. Everyone in this town anyway.

"I kind of- I realized how unfair I was being, to get angry at you the way I did."

"No," he answers quickly. "I was way out of line. I shouldn't have-"

"Yes, you shouldn't," she cuts in wryly, and he feels the back of his neck grow hot in embarrassment. "But- but if we're going to be friends, then we need to be honest, right? Like, if we want to be real friends?"

"I- Yeah, okay," he mumbles. He gets the feeling that she's not done yet, and it's funny how they've known each other for weeks and this is the most they've ever said to one another. He keeps quiet, letting her speak for however long she wants to. He figures that he kind of owes her that for being such a jerk.

"I know it's unfair for me to know.. things, about you. And you don't know anything about me, and I guess I can't get mad at you for being curious so- can I hold your hand?" Her question comes off hesitant, and he can't say that he's not surprised by the request. He wonders vaguely if she's as aware of how close they are as he is.

"Okay."

He feels her soft fingers loop through his, and keeps staring quietly as she pulls his hand up towards her face. His fingers make contact with the strands of her hair and for the first time since he's known her, she pushes it back behind her ears. He's caught in between being ridiculously curious to know what she's doing and feeling oddly removed from the bizarreness of the current situation. He feels an odd bump when he reaches the side of her face, and realizes that it continues along her jaw, until it reaches her throat.

"I was in an accident," she whispers as she lets go of his hand and allows his fingers to inspect the shape of her scar in the dark. "Two months ago. We- I- crashed straight into the side of a trailer, and I was thrown out of my seat. This," she says, indicating her wound "was because some glass sliced straight through it. Or at least, that's what they told me."

He lets out a slow breath as he feels her shrug.

"God, Rachel," he breathes out, at a loss for words. His fingers still just beneath the column of her throat, and he thinks that he can feel her catch her breath. He knows he should pull away, but he can't seem to make his body move.

"I don't remember much," she continues quietly, and he can feel the vibration of her voice where they connect. It shoots up his arm, straight through him. "I didn't wake up until two weeks later."

"You were in a coma?" he asks quietly, finally pulling his hand away to rest awkwardly next to hers on the bed. She shifts a little and he feels her turn, pulling her legs up to stretch out next to his.

"Yeah."

"Me too. I mean, I was out for 48 hours, if that counts."

"I think it does."

"When I woke up," he continues, not really sure of what he's saying. "It felt like my throat was on fire."

"Yeah, like you've been stuck in a desert for years without anything to drink."

"Uh- yeah. I felt like a bus just ran me over."

"I had pneumonia."

"What?"

"While I was in my coma. I had pneumonia, it kind of killed my vocal chords."

Well _shit_.

"Is that-" He stops talking, trying to phrase his words right. He gets how shitty if it feels if someone says the wrong thing to him, so he doesn't want to do the same to her.

"I can still sing," she says, as if she knows what he was trying to ask. He thinks she probably does. It's a little hard to hold in that sigh of relief. He honestly doesn't think he'd know what to do if she told him that she can't.

"Oh. Good. Well then why won't you- I mean, what's the deal with the iPod?"

She says nothing, and he feels her freeze just slightly. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to," he says quickly.

"I want to," she says quietly, putting one hand over his. "I can still sing, I think. I haven't though, because- I just- I'm scared," she tells him.

"Of what?" he whispers, confused.

"I'm just- I just am, know what I mean?" Her tone is hesitant, and he can _feel_ her waiting for an answer.

He knows plenty about being scared.

"Yeah."

Xxx

"Why did you ask me about my nightmare?"

"You looked like you needed to talk about it."

"Did you do it so that you could talk about it too? Your problem?"

"Does that make me a bad person?"

"Why?"

"Because I was testing you."

"Nah. I get it. Did I pass?"

"That's kind of obvious, don't you think?"

Xxx

He's in a better mood the next day when he makes his way to therapy. He's just in a better mood all around. When his mom came in the morning on her way to work, he didn't flinch when she kissed him. And he almost smiled at the nurse who came in and took his blood pressure.

He sees her sitting where she usually sits, her bag perched neatly on the floor to her right. He takes his place and he thinks she's blushing as he comes closer. Her hair is as it always is, part down the middle as it frames her face. He remembers the night before, the way her skin feels under his fingers and he's blushing straight down to the soles of his feet.

Natalie comes in, and he sees her glance stay on them for a few seconds too long, but she says nothing. As Mrs Linklater stands and starts thanking them all because this is her last day here, he thinks he loves that things are normal again.

He catches her eye, and she looks away, blushing.

Kind of, anyway.

Xxx

She comes in his room sometimes. And she sits on his bed. And she talks.

A lot.

She talks about the hospital, and their 'friends' from therapy. She talks about the nurses and about who's having an affair with which doctor. He doesn't listen all the time, just enough for her to think that he's paying attention.

He likes listening to her talk. He really, really likes her voice. Sometimes he can't get it out of his head, the way she sounded when she sang. They don't talk about that, or about his accident. They don't talk about her potentially never singing again, or about him definitely never playing football again.

They don't talk about the hard stuff.

But they both know it's always there.

Xxx

Dr. Chang won't stop bugging him about physiotherapy. The cast on his hand is replaced with a brace, and it hurts like a bitch to try, but he can wiggle his fingers now.

"You won't regain your full control unless you listen to me and do some exercises for your hand," his doctor tells him exasperatedly. He thinks about Rachel, and how she's scared to try.

He totally gets it.

Xxx

"I was in glee club," she tells him as she sits on the bed and draws another pink star on his arm. Sometimes he wants to ask her if that's the only thing she knows how to draw, but he never does. He doesn't really mind them. They're small and they wash out. The only one who ever notice is his mom, and after that first time, she doesn't say anything about it.

"What's glee club?" he asks. He looks up to find her staring at him in exasperation.

"How can you not know what glee is?"

"Erm- sorry?"

"It's – well, we sing."

"Oh."

"It's like showchoir. We perform music. It didn't last very long. There were like, four of us, and Miss Holiday, our teacher, moved to a different school after a month."

"That sucks," he comments sincerely at the disappointed look on her face.

"Yeah. I really loved glee club."

"If I could sing like you, I'd probably sing all the time too," he tells her nonchalantly. Okay, so not really 'cause he'd probably get sick of his own voice after a while, but he doesn't think he'll ever get sick of hers. He takes her pen away from her to draw a tiny football on her hospital gown. Well it's supposed to be a football, but he can't draw for shit with his left hand and it just looks like a pink blob.

"Really?" The way she says the word makes him look up, and she's looking at him funny, her eyes shining. He smiles at her a little nervously.

"Definitely. When you sing, I don't know. I just- I can feel it, you know?"

He grins at her sheepishly. He probably sounds like an idiot right now and that's why she's not saying anything.

"I bet you would have been great in glee," she tells him, her cheeks pink as she beams. He snorts, handing her back her pen.

"I don't know about that." He doesn't sing. Ever. Unless he's like, in the shower or something. He's not going to lie, he does sometimes rock out to Poison in the locker room when he's alone, _alone_ being the key word.

"Oh I'm sure you would. You have a beautiful speaking voice." She turns red after she says that, looking down shyly at her hands.

"I do?" he asks stupidly, looking up at her in surprise.

"Yes. Although, you probably won't. Glee's not exactly 'cool'."

He probably won't, she's right. A year ago, or even like a few months ago, he wouldn't even consider doing something like join glee club, not unless he wanted to know what it felt like to have a slushie thrown in his face.

Now though, being worried over something like that just feels so stupid. What did being popular get him? Nothing but a busted leg and a short-lived football career. He places a hand over hers and smiles when she looks up.

"I'll join it in a heartbeat if you're there."


	4. Space Partial

_These padded walls and TV screens_

_Sometimes they make me want to scream_

* * *

><p>He realizes that she's kind of crazy, a little.<p>

Or at least, she _was_.

"We used to have a transfer student in our school, you know," she tells him nonchalantly while she's pushing his wheelchair out of the hospital doors towards the garden. "Her name was Sunshine and she's from the Philippines."

"Oh," he answers noncommittally, wondering what she would say if he asks her to play that 'game' he and Puck used to play when he still came over. She'd probably look at him like he's crazy and wheel him right back to his room.

He hates to admit it, but he kind of misses Puckerman sometimes.

That doesn't mean he's gonna do anything about it though.

"She sang very well," she continues, sitting down on bench next to his chair.

"Hmm."

"I was afraid that people were going to think she was better than me."

She's looking down at her hands now, and he can't see her face because as usual, her hair hides it from him. The quiet way she said those words made him pay attention.

"I sent her to a crackhouse."

"You- you _what_?" he questions in disbelief. She said the words so quickly, he barely heard her, but he's pretty sure she just said what he thought she just said.

She looks up at him, her eyes huge and defensive.

"It wasn't an _active_ crackhouse. I mean, it was two weeks into glee club and I was making my way towards being its star attraction. I couldn't let anyone get in the way of that. I'm not crazy, I _swear_," she finishes quickly at the alarmed look on his face. They stare at each other for a few seconds longer, because holy _shit_, she sent someone to a freaking crackhouse? She's blushing to the roots of her hair though, and he thinks she's really struggling not to look away.

"Nothing _happened_. I even surveyed the area before I sent her there, which was why I knew that Lima's seediest residents have moved to a- you know what? Forget I ever told you that," she murmurs, finally breaking their gaze. "Besides, I think this is sort of like karma anyway. Now she's the lead singer in Vocal Adrenaline and I'm nothing."

She sounds so upset, it kinda kills him a little. Besides, he knows what her voice sounds like. And he knows what being nothing is like too, and she's **not** nothing.

"C'mon. You're not nothing," he says soothingly, placing his braced hand over hers. She looks up at him doubtfully. "You're Rachel. And once you get over the whole pneumonia thing, you're gonna get your killer vocals back," he continues confidently, smiling at her.

"You're very nice to me," she tells him shyly, beaming. He grins.

"But you kinda are though. Crazy, I mean."

He laughs when she playfully socks his arm.

So fine, she's a little weird, and that was kinda really mean. But hey, Puck throws kids in dumpsters all the time and he saw Quinn made a girl cry so hard at Cheerios tryouts once, she literally fainted, so it's not like he hasn't seen worse. At least she seemed to be torn up about it, which is more than he could say about Puck and Quinn. Besides, he can't really say he doesn't wish that Sam would go find a hole to fall into sometimes either.

Okay, so she's a little crazy. But she feels like the kind of crazy he likes.

Xxx

Things with his mom are getting worse. He knows he's not helping, like at all. But he can't help it okay? Talking to her is _hard_. Like, he can't do it, he can't look her in the face and tell her how fucking terrified he is right now. And he knows she's disappointed okay?

It's not like he was the only one relying on good ole' football to get him out of this place.

There is a giant ball of guilt in him somewhere, and it keeps getting bigger the longer he thinks about her.

But when she comes in and tries to pretend like nothing's wrong, like this isn't the end of the world, it just fucking pisses him off and he can't look her in the eye because all he wants to do is _scream_ until he loses his voice.

Because that's a fucking lie.

Xxx

It hits him why that Kurt kid looked so familiar.

He thinks back to sophomore year and the first kid he ever helped throw in a dumpster. He'd held Kurt's jacket for him while Puck tipped him over, because the dude seemed so torn up about that stupid piece of clothing in particular. Seriously, the dude was more worried about his stupid jacket than he was about getting tossed into trash, so it really was the least that he could do for him, considering. Finn knows that he's not in McKinley anymore 'cause he'd mentioned Dalton Academy once when Sandy had asked him about school.

Kurt doesn't look at him like he remembers though.

Finn figures that even if he did, Kurt would probably think that this is karma too, for all the shitty things he used to pull.

It's a new word she taught him, and boy, that karma sure is a revengeful bitch.

Xxx

"Nana called the other day. She sent you her famous chocolate chip cookies," his mom says brightly as she places the red tin box on his tray like it's a peace offering. She's standing next to him cautiously, and he feels that familiar twinge of guilt at the way she's looking at him.

"One you're all better, we'll take a little trip to see her. She misses you, you know."

He clenches the sheets with his good hand, trying not to be a jerk. But just because he knows better, doesn't make it hurt any less.

"I'm not getting better mom. They can't fix me, remember?" he tells her bluntly.

"Finn," she answers tiredly with a sigh as she brings a hand up to her temple. "You know what I mean."

He says nothing to that, fixing his gaze on the tin of cookies in front of him instead.

"I'm tired," he says shortly.

"Finn-"

"I'm going to take a nap." He moves to pull his blanket up higher, but her hand stops him.

"No."

He looks up to find her looking firmly down at him, but the hand she has on his trembles a little when he meets her gaze.

"No?"

"No. You're going to talk to me, because I am your mother, and I will not allow you to treat me this way any longer."

"I don't have anything to say," he answers, shrugging nonchalantly even though he feels his entire body start to heat up. He hears her sighing as she moves closer to his bed, the hand on his moving to touch his face.

"Finn," she whispers, her voice shaking enough to make him look up again and catch the way her eyes shimmer. "_Please_."

"Finn! I- oh, I'm sorry."

They both look towards the open door to find Rachel standing awkwardly at the doorway. He smiles at her, feeling oddly relieved at her presence.

"Hey," he says, ignoring his mom and the way she's still looking at him. She sighs again before she finally turns, pasting a smile on her face. He sees Rachel smile as she moves forward to extend her hand.

"Hi! You must be Finn's mom. I'm Rachel Berry."

He watches as they shake their hands and his mom introduces herself.

"Call me Carole, sweetie. Are you the one who's been getting Finn out of his room?"

"Yeah, he's too lazy to do it by himself. But you don't mind, do you?" she finishes in alarm as Finn rolls his eyes and smiles at her joke, feeling himself relaxing.

"No, no I'm glad he's made a friend here. It can get lonely being here alone."

"Oh you have no idea. I'm sorry for bothering you. I just came by to give you this," she continues, beaming at him as she drops a CD on his lap. He turns it over in confusion.

"I told my parents about you, and how you liked listening to classic rock. My daddy likes you so much, he made you his very own personalized mix. That's how you know if he likes you or not," she says conspiratorially.

"Awesome," he tells her brightly, looking at the neat cursive of her daddy's handwriting. There's Journey in there, and Poison. He thinks he sees Guns n Roses too.

"Well, I'll be going now. I'll see you tomorrow Finn."

"You don't have to leave," he pipes up suddenly as she makes her way towards the door. She turns in surprise and looks at Carole.

"But your mom-"

"It was nothing," he says quickly, avoiding all contact with his mom. She's still looking at him doubtfully, like she knows he's lying.

"Yes," Carole says suddenly. "I was just leaving. You should stay and keep him company."

Rachel beams at them both and says "Okay" as she makes her way back, and he avoids looking at his mom until she walks out the door.

"Wanna take a listen?" she asks and he turns to find her already rummaging through his drawer for his laptop.

"Yeah," he answers enthusiastically, trying to ignore that crappy feeling in his stomach.

Xxx

"You don't like to talk about yourself, do you?"

"Hmm?"

She shrugs her shoulders as they walk side by side to the hospital cafeteria. Okay fine, so technically, he's wheeling himself next to her. She stopped pushing his chair for him once she overheard Dr. Chang saying, for like the hundredth time, that he needed to do some exercises for it. He doesn't think that pushing his own wheelchair was exactly what the dude had in mind, but whatever.

"It's just that I don't know anything about you."

"Sure you do. You know what music I like, and that I hate yellow jello."

"Yeah, but that's not what really knowing someone is," she argues. "I mean, I agree that knowing one another's musical preferences is crucial, but what about family background. Or what your friends are like? I have a theory on that one, but it's not very flattering, and I'm sure you'll clarify that I'm not wholly correct in my assumptions. Anyway, what's your life like Finn? What do you like? What don't you like?"

She takes a seat on the table closest to the door and he parks himself at the edge of the table.

"Right now? I like the red jello they're serving. I _don't_ like the broccoli though. Ugh."

"_Finn_," she groans, rolling her eyes.

"What's with the third degree?" he asks lightly. She looks back at him seriously.

"I just realized I didn't even know your mom's name until she introduced herself."

"So?"

"So you know the names of half of my family members by now. And you know that daddy likes to make customized mixes for people he likes."

"I just don't talk as much as you do?"

"Are you saying I talk too much?" she demands. _Shit_.

"Erm-"

"It's okay," she cuts in, waving him off. "Daddy says it's an affliction of the Berry gene."

"Oh," he answers, his head spinning. He's confused by now. What does she want exactly?

"What's your mom like?" she asks suddenly. He looks at the brace on his arm, at the initials of her name she had scrawled earlier.

"She- she's like my mom," he answers, shrugging.

"That's not an answer."

"Sure it is. She's all mom-like and stuff, you know?"

"I don't know," she answers quietly.

"Oh, right. You have two gay dads."

"She seems really nice."

"Yeah. I- she's- she's awesome."

"What were you talking about the other day?"

"Boy, you're really nosy you know that?"

"_Finn_."

"What?"

"You don't go around telling a girl she's nosy," she huffs, insulted. He knows this. But he also knows that he kinda wants her to shut up about his mom and stuff.

"Sorry," he answers, 'cause he doesn't _really_ want her to be pissed at him. She sighs and rolls her eyes.

"Fine. Guard the table while I go get us our food."

"Totally," he answers brightly, saluting her as she stands. She smiles a little at that, and he watches as she walks towards the line, feeling like he just dodged a bullet.

Or like, two three hundred pound linebackers.

_Ha. ha._

Xxx

"They wouldn't leaves us alone."

He stares at Kurt Hummel's face as he starts to speak. He's not particularly sure what he's seeing. He thinks that it's not really fear, but it's not really courage either. He's not really all that comfortable listening to this.

"My friend, Blaine and I, we were out late that night to get some supplies for our upcoming theatre production, and we stopped for some gas. These- these _animals_ wouldn't stop taunting us, and they followed us out into the parking lot. That was when Blaine decided to say something. They didn't like that," Kurt continues sarcastically. He's kind of looking pointedly at Finn. What the hell is that all about?

"A bunch of queers talking back at the kings of public high school, how _dare_ we? Next thing I knew, someone had punched me in the face. I blacked out after a while, and when I came to, here I was."

"That's horrible," Rachel whispers.

He feels kind of sick, but it's mixed with something else, defensive and bitter. Kurt nods his head once and sits back down without a word.

He can't stand being here. He _hates_ this.

He ignores her when she calls out to him as he wheels himself out.

Xxx

"What happened?" she asks quietly later, when she finds him out in the garden, staring sullenly at the wall.

"It's stupid," he mutters.

"What is?"

"This. _Everything_. This whole fucking thing is _stupid_!"

"Finn."

"What? You don't think so? You don't think it's stupid that I have to listen to all this- all this _shit_ that happened to them like I'm supposed to care?"

"You do care."

"I _don't_. Okay? I don't care. I don't give a flying fuck about anybody. You know why? 'Cause I'm _screwed_ Rachel! Life fucked me over, and the only chance I ever had of getting out of this place is _gone_! I don't want to care about them!"

His voice is shaking as he tries not to scream out his words. He doesn't even know what he's actually saying right now. He just knows that this is unfair, and it's _pissing_ him off, and he can't do a fucking thing about _any_ of it.

"I don't want to care that Kurt's life sucks 'cause he's gay and the people in this town are assholes. I don't want to care that the new girl has cancer. I _hate_ this stupid therapy! I _hate_ listening to them talk about how bad their situation is. What, is it supposed to make me feel better, huh? Am I supposed to be grateful that all I have is a busted knee and a dead end future? 'Cause hey, at least people don't beat me up for no reason and I'm not dying right?"

"Stop it," she says quietly, and he knows she's starting to cry by the way her voice breaks, but the rage that takes him over won't let him feel anything else.

"I lost _everything_. Don't you get it?"

"Don't say that. It's not true."

"What the fuck would you know about it?" he asks angrily, looking her dead in the eyes. "Yeah, 'cause you know me so well right? 'Cause you're the girl who lost her voice and is too afraid to sing again, right? You think that's the same thing? It's not. You still _have_ something. You're just too afraid to admit it."

He can't take his words back, not even as her eyes widen and the hurt pours out of every pore on her face. It's like he's a train crash waiting to happen. He's heaving slightly as he finishes because it's been a while since he's said so much and it's been a while since he lets himself _feel_. She's quiet.

"Stop being mean. It's not like you," she finally says.

"How do you know?" he challenges. "Maybe I'm just a bully like Kurt obviously thinks I am. Maybe I'm just nice to you 'cause I'm nothing but a loser now. Maybe-"

"Maybe you're right."

That shut him up. She looks at him defiantly as she stands, tears pooling in her eyes as she wipes them away angrily.

"Maybe you are just the boy who threw that Slushie at me last year. Maybe that's all you are, because you sure are trying your best to be him right now. I'm sorry you had to hang out with me all this time because all your real friends are too busy being cool to care. I won't bother you anymore."

He watches as she stalks away with a loud sob, clenching his fist.

He knows he fucked up.

He knows _he's_ fucked up.

But there isn't exactly a damn thing he can do about it, is there?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The lyrics at the beginning of the first three chapters are from Nerve Damage by Lifehouse. The lyrics on this chapter are from Space by Something Corporate. I highly suggest listening to them because they helped me in setting the tone for this story. But hey, only if you want to =)**


	5. Transition Period

_Man it hurts like hell down here on my knees_

_Is this where I end, or is this where we begin?_

* * *

><p>He skips therapy for the rest of the week, because he's just <em>done<em> with it. It doesn't help. Point proven.

He kinda hates how she had written her name on his freaking brace and so now he can't wash it out. Sometimes he wishes she'd just drawn a stupid star instead so that he won't have to see those letters staring pointedly back at him.

He pretends that his ears don't prick up when he hears footsteps outside of his door.

They're never for him anyway.

Xxx

"I haven't seen Rachel around this week," his mom comments after half an hour of silence. He wants to ask her exactly when, aside from that one time where they met, has she ever actually seen Rachel anywhere. But that would just use up too many words and he's not in the mood to talk.

So what else is new?

"I like that girl. She looks like she's got spunk. She's very sweet-"

"She's gone mom," he answers dully.

"What do you mean gone? Has she been discharged?"

"No."

"Finn-"

"She's just gone, okay? We're not friends anymore."

"But why?" The way she's phrasing that question sounds like the idea is completely ridiculous or something. What's so weird about not being friends with Rachel Berry anyway? He's been losing friends left and right these days.

'_Cause I'm an asshole._

"Look, just leave it mom, okay?" he says tiredly, turning as far as his stupid leg would let him on the bed. He hears her sighing and closes his eyes as he grits his teeth, because he gets the feeling that he knows what's coming next.

"Finn," she starts slowly. "You can't keep pushing everyone away honey. That girl cares about you."

"Yeah well, I don't care about her."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" she asks quietly.

"I don't care what you believe," he mutters, closing his eyes.

She comes at him out of nowhere. One minute he's got his eyes closed, and the next his blanket has been yanked away and she's slapping the side of his good arm. Hard.

"Ow! What the hell-"

"You listen to me young man," she starts, her voice low. He knows she means business because he's lived with her for seventeen years and Carole Hudson's voice never goes that low unless she's furious. She's glaring down at him, and he feels five years old again, when she'd just found him wandering aimlessly through the Christmas tree lot after fifteen minutes of hysterical searching.

"I may have let you get away with isolating yourself all this time because I _know_ that you are in pain. You are hurt and you are angry, and I understand that. But you do _not_ get to push the people who love you away any longer. Do you understand me?"

He tries to turn away but she grabs his jaw and forces him to look up, and he feels his stomach churning, and he feels sick, but he can't look away. She's his mom and she doesn't get angry a lot, but she scares him when she does, and that young part of him is fighting with that rebellious ass who's been around for months, telling him that nothing she can ever say will make any difference to him now.

"You do not get to look away, you hear me? Look at my face when I'm talking to you. You think you're the only one who's ever lost something? Huh? You think I don't know what it's like to lose everything? Do you really think that you're the only person in this world who's had something important taken away from him? Answer me!"

Her eyes are boring into his, and he can't look away. She's staring him down, and something in him is straining to stare back, but he snaps.

He blinks.

"No," he finally mumbles, gritting his teeth.

"Then what do you think you're doing Finn? You can't freeze me out, do you get that? _Nothing_ you can ever do will ever make me turn away because I am your mother, and I _love_ you. Do you understand? I _love_ you. And you're _hurting_ me, so _much_ when you do this. Finn-"

Her face breaks, and she lets out a shuddering sob and his mind transports him back to four days ago, and the way the same sound came out of the girl who had walked away from him. It feels a little like his heart is ripped to shreds, just like it felt that day.

"I _know_ you, baby. This isn't you. You're not like this. Don't let this beat you Finn. Don't let it take over. Finn-"

"I _can't_ mom," he cuts in, his words choked and stunted.

"You can," she says urgently, taking his hand and gripping it hard as she leans close enough for him to turn away. "Honey, you're so strong, and you don't even know it, but I do. I do."

"I-"

He feels that strong wave of denial as the surge of emotions bubble up inside of him, and he shuts his eyes tight as he keeps silent because speaking isn't really an option right now.

"I'm not," he whispers, feeling the back of his eyelids start to burn. He hates that feeling he's getting in his chest, that tight, restricted feeling. "I _can't_."

Xxx

"Where are you Finn?" he hears her whisper as he pretends that he's asleep. He feels her cool hands caressing his face, feels her lean down to kiss his forehead. "Where's my baby boy?"

He holds his breath as she turns out the lights and leaves his room.

He spends the rest of the night on his back, trying to figure out an answer.

Xxx

He sees her when he's on his way to his first physiotherapy session. She's at the receptionist, laughing at something a tall, African American man is saying. He wonders if he's her father. He sees her wearing normal clothes, a bright yellow cardigan and dark brown skirt, and his heart drops a little at the thought of her leaving.

The nurse wheels him away, and he doesn't look back.

Xxx

His mom is practically pulling his arm to force him back to therapy. First she took his copy of Braveheart away. Then she took his lap top.

That's how he finds himself begrudgingly heading towards that dreaded room on Monday morning. He takes a deep breath at the door, turning red with embarrassment at the thought of his dramatic exit last week. He's about to push the door, when Natalie pulls it open.

"Finn," she greets, smiling that ever present, slightly alarming, smile when she sees him. "We've missed you. Come on in."

He nods and does as he is told, and almost stops short when he sees her, back in her hospital gown, sitting in between a new kid and Kurt. She's staring off into space, but the pensive look turns into a glare when she sees him. He looks away, rolling himself up to John, who's looking much better these days. Finn knows that he's more relaxed now that his wife is driving him around everywhere because that was what he said two weeks ago.

"We have a special guest here today," Natalie starts as she stands by the door. "He used to be one of my patients, one of my best patients at that. I figured some of you could use a little more hands on motivation, so to speak. So come on in Artie."

He watches in surprise as the wheelchair kid from his school wheels himself in with a big smile and a "What's up homies?". He frowns when Rachel beams and waves enthusiastically and Artie waves back, a little less enthusiastically.

Artie rolls himself right next to Natalie's seat, high-fiving everyone along the way. Who is this dude, like a crippled Justin Bieber or something?

"So," Natalie starts once she's settled in her seat. "I know a lot of you have been learning to cope with your situations. John, congratulations on getting behind the wheels of your Ford yesterday."

"It was just for ten minutes," John answers, grabbing the back of his neck as he blushes. He's not going to lie, Finn's pretty impressed. The way he went on two months back, you'd have thought he'd sooner learn to get around on a bicycle before even setting foot in a car again.

"Baby steps," Natalie answers, smiling. "But some of you are still struggling."

He can kind of appreciate the fact that she's not looking pointedly at him the way Rachel is right now.

"I know all about that," Artie pipes up, knowingly. He refrains from thinking of a snarky comeback, because it's just too tiring trying to be an ass.

He stifles a groan as they start to go around the room, talking about the changes they have made last week. When it gets to his turn, he just shrugs and offers a small smile as usual.

This is going to be a _long_ day.

Xxx

"I wanted to be a dancer," Artie says, grinning like it doesn't even hurt anymore. "No, seriously. I wanted to be the white Michael Jackson. The natural version."

The rest of the room laughs, but he can only focus on the impossibility of this situation.

"And then, you know, fate or coincidence, or whatever sucky force of nature nipped that one in the bud. All my years of hard work, buying all of MJ's records and tearing up hundreds of pants with my 'splits' were all for nothin'. I was like, twelve, thirteen maybe? It was a car accident. My mom was driving and it was during a really bad storm, so she didn't see the other car coming."

The room turns sober, and just like the rest of them, he thinks back to that moment again, to that resounding crack that had signified the end of his life as he knew it.

"It changes stuff, you know? People look at you different, they treat you different. You just become a whole other person, in a way. Like, the worst part, is having to change your dreams. I think, for like the longest time, I thought one day, I was gonna be able to walk again, you know? Like, any day now. Because, I'm meant for dancing. It was what I lived for. So you, know it's gonna happen, right?"

Their gazes meet, and Artie smiles at him, a little ruefully, and he looks away. He never really thought that he'd wake up one day and his knee will be fine, not really. He knows how stupid that is after that week when he was still in denial. But he can't really change his dream. He doesn't know _how_ to do that, and maybe that's what pisses him off the most.

He catches her gaze, and he can't read the look she's giving him.

"But you know, Natalie here, she told me that when one window closes, another one opens. And I know, I know, how boringly cliché is that, right? But it's true you know. I think sometimes bad things happen to show you the stuff you're made of. Like, you see more of yourself, in a way. You're more than who you think you are. I mean for example, I don't mean to brag, but I'm a Math genius."

"It's true. He does my accounts for me," Natalie pipes up when the room laughs again.

"I'm totally serious. I am smart, yo. And plus, I am an awesome singer."

"You really are," Rachel says, smiling. He watches as Arties smiles back and points at her with his thumb and forefinger, and seriously. How do they even know each other? Okay they go to the same school, but how close are they, really?

"I didn't even know I could sing, I was too busy trying to be a dancer and trying to bust a move, and it turned out, I had the vocal chops worthy of the King of Pop himself. I'll demonstrate sometimes."

The dude is so damn cocky, like he's so different from what he's like at school. Finn remembers watching Karofsky throw a slushie in his face as Puck holds the back of his wheelchair so he couldn't move. He remembers Artie manoeuvring around school while looking down at his useless legs, and struggling to get up the school steps. He always had to wait for someone to help him up those stairs until his mom demanded the school to install some ramps. Which meant that he spent a lot of time being late to class until some random teacher would help him. Artie's eyes almost meets his again, and he looks away, feeling the back of his neck burn at the memory of watching that and feeling sick to his stomach and doing nothing about it.

He likes this Artie so much better.

Xxx

"I think it's safe to say that today was a pretty productive session," Natalie starts, smiling at them all. He wonders if she ever frowns. He wonders if that's like a physical impossibility for her.

"You, my man, are an inspiration," Sandy gushes. What is this dude still doing here, seriously?

"Holla," Artie answers, waving his hand in the air. Finn breaks a smile at that. Dude is funny.

"Anybody else has anything to share?"

He knows she's staring at him. She's been doing that all day, alternating with beaming at Artie, that is. He looks down at her name scrawled in pink and stifles a sigh.

"Well, if we have no takers then I guess-"

"I have something."

He looks up in surprise to find her standing up, her hands clasped in front of her.

"Rachel! Awesome. What would you like to share with us?"

She turns to look at him, right at him.

"The first time I went to Carmel, it was to see someone I had wronged."

He notices Artie's eyes shifting uncomfortably, and it hits him that they were probably in glee club together, because he's pretty sure she's talking about that girl she sent to the crackhouse, Sunbeam or something.

"She had graciously accepted my apology, and we became friends. I never really had girl friend before, or really any kind of friend to be honest, so I really appreciated the fact that she could overlook the mistake I made and extend that olive branch. It wasn't long before we started hanging out after school. She was very busy being Vocal Adrenaline's lead singer, so I usually waited for her at Carmel. That was when I met Shelby. It wasn't a hassle or anything, because Vocal Adrenaline was really amazing. I begged my parents to let me transfer, so that I could join their glee club, but they wouldn't hear of it at all. I even made a very Powerpoint presentation for them, but they just shut me down."

She looks really worked up right now, and he wonders if she's forgotten where she is.

"I couldn't understand that at all. Why won't they let me transfer if they knew how miserable I was a McKinley? And Shelby, their coach, was so amazing. She was nice to me and when she sang, I felt like we connected on a pretty cosmic level. I wanted to be her protégé, and I thought that maybe if I could transfer to Carmel, then I could be the lead there, because I am- was, a _very_ talented singer. I was so angry with my fathers, I didn't speak to them for days because I thought they were being irrationally impossible _just_ to torment me."

She talks like a normal person on Redbull. He's having a hard time keeping up with her rant because he's a little out of practice. She stops though, and slows down a little, the tone of her voice changing.

"Then, well. One day, Sunshine told me about Shelby. She told me that Shelby used to have a daughter, and that she had given her baby away to a gay couple when she was eighteen. She told me that it was her greatest regret."

Her voice goes a little lower and she's looking down at her feet, and he's not sure how he's getting this so quickly, but he does, and holy shit, this girl life feels like it's coming straight out of one of those Spanish soap operas his mom loves to watch. It's a little crazy how everything about her life is so dramatic. No wonder she's kind of a drama queen (In a good way, of course).

"It drove me crazy. I couldn't let it go. I searched through every single piece of document we had lying around the house, but I couldn't find anything, because it was a closed adoption. Finally, after a week of futile investigation, I confronted my parents. I asked them if Shelby is my birth mother."

He sees Sandy Ryerson on the edge of his seat, his hand clasped over his mouth, and the cancer girl looking like she's about to cry because Rachel's already crying.

"They denied it at first, and it hurt, but I understand it now. They just didn't want _me_ to get hurt. But the moment I saw daddy's face crack, I jumped straight into my car and drove to Carmel. Shelby was just about to go home when I found her. I called her mom, and I think maybe that took her by surprise. Maybe I shouldn't have done that. I-"

She stops talking and she catches his gaze, and he nods at her, because she just looks like she needs a little help.

"We talked, and she told me that she regretted giving me away, or rather, she regretted choosing not to be a part of my life. And so I- I told her she could, you know, still be a part of it. And- and she said yes, and I was so excited, because I never had a mom before, or any sort of female presence in my life, really, and it's just exciting, you know?"

He kinda gets that, in like, the opposite way. He doesn't really know what it's like to have a dad. He thinks he'd have jumped at the chance if some dude came up to him and told him he was his father. Like Star Wars. Only, not really 'cause Darth Vader's evil and his dad's dead.

"But- but I guess I overwhelmed her, because it didn't last very long, and one day, she just- she told me that I had grown up, and that my parents did such a great job. She said that I didn't need her, and I just- I couldn't understand, you know? Things had been going so well. Why didn't she want me anymore?"

She closes her eyes tight and a few stray tears seep through, and he's clenching his fist because she shouldn't have to say all these things if she didn't want to, and he knows she's doing it to make a point, but damnit he kind of wishes she hadn't. Because part of it feels like it's his fault that she's doing this, and it's driving him crazy.

"I was- well I was very distraught, to say the least. In hindsight, it probably was not the best idea to be driving when you're that upset, because it really was my own fault for not paying attention. I didn't realize what was happening until the trailer was honking, and by then it was pretty much inevitable so-"

She shrugs her shoulders.

"The rest pretty much goes like most of you. I was in a coma for a few weeks, and caught pneumonia and my voice- well my voice just- I'm not sure if-"

"You _can_."

She looks at him in surprise, and honestly, he didn't even realize he was the one talking until everyone looked at him. He feels his face burning up, but he squares his shoulders.

"You can," he repeats.

Xxx

He's never been to her room before. It made him feel a little dickish to realize that he didn't even know where it was in the first place. He had to ask a nurse. But he pushes his way down the hospital corridor, until he reaches the far end, waiting in front of the closed door for something to say.

He realizes after five minutes that the right words are never coming and gives up, resigning himself to entering unarmed. He finds her lying on her bed with a mask over her face and he quickens his movements.

He breathes a sigh of relief when she sits up at the noise.

"Finn," she says, startled as she pulls the oxygen mask over her head. "What are you doing here?"

"I erm- why do you need that?" he asks instead.

"Oh.. it's for the after effects of my pneumonia. It was- it was pretty bad, so..."

"Oh."

"Why are you here Finn?"

"Why didn't you tell me? Before?"

"I didn't want to over-share. You know, like _overstayed_ my welcome?"

"Rachel-"

"You should close the door when you leave. My lungs are _very_ sensitive."

"Rachel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it when I said that thing about being nice to you 'cause I'm a loser. I mean, you're not a loser Rach. You're awesome. I just- I'm sorry."

"Prove it."

Xxx

He will.

He's gonna prove it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Happy Eid to any Muslim readers out there!**


	6. Clarity

_You make it easier to be_

_Easier to be me_

* * *

><p>He's on pins and needles for the next two days, going back and forth between wondering if he really is going to go through with it and psyching himself up for the inevitable, because she wants him to prove himself, and he thinks he knows exactly what she means by that. It's going against everything his head is telling him, but he figures that he's not really sure where his head is even <em>at<em> these days, so whatever.

She did it for him. Well, kind of.

His mom knows that something's up, 'cause honestly, he's all jittery and stuff, and it's like _so_ obvious. But she doesn't say anything about it though, and he's kinda grateful 'cause she's watching him like a hawk these days. Like, she gave him back his lap top. But she'd also dumped a shitload of schoolwork that he's _never_ going to get done on his lap. She didn't even say anything. She just dumped all that crap and raised an eyebrow at him, and he knows he's in the doghouse. Apparently she decided that since confronting him didn't work, she's just gonna go all drill sergeant on him.

Anyway, now he's got like stacks of homework he _knows_ he's not doing (because even if he wanted to, he would never be able to catch up with all that shit. He already had trouble keeping up when he was still _in_ school), not to mention that little 'proof' Rachel's got hanging over his head. He guesses he should be glad in a way, that after today, _that_ will be over and done with.

He's not though, 'cause he's in front of the therapy room and his hands are clammy because just the _idea_ of all those eyes on him is starting to freak him out. He's nervous okay? There is a big difference between having all those eyes waiting for you to score a touchdown and having all those eyes looking up at you, waiting for freaking _words_ to come out of your mouth. He's never been good with public speaking.

Give him a football and ask for an awesome game? Great, he'll serve it right up. Hand him a beer and tell him to get the party started? _Hell_ yeah. But tell him to go in front of a bunch of people and like, talk? Uh, no thank you. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knows his limits 'kay? Like, he'll never for a million years ever attempt to run for class president because he's about as eloquent as Janitor Bud when he's got a few 'root beers' going. Plus, just the idea of going up to people and like, speaking his mind makes his stomach feel like he ate some really bad fish.

He sighs, staring at the closed door. Well. It's now or never, right? She'll _have_ to forgive him after this.

"Finn."

He turns to find Sandy Ryerson smiling at him, wearing his standard pink Polo shirt and white shorts. The dude makes him a little uncomfortable to be honest, 'cause it feels a little like Sandy looks at him funny sometimes. He smiles weakly back.

"Hey Mr Ryerson," he says as Sandy pushes the door open for them. The older man stops just as he's about to enter, looking down at him in surprise.

"He speaks," Sandy jokes, holding the door open for him. He finds Rachel already seated, and there's an empty space next to her. Her bag is in her lap though, not on the floor, so he doesn't know if the space is empty for him or if it's just coincidence. He still sits next to her anyway.

"Hey," he says. She nods once, before turning to Kurt and saying something. He frowns. Boy, when she's pissed she really means it. Fine. He'll just have to _make_ her talk to him then. Natalie rushes in five minutes later, apologizing for being late, but nobody really cares since they're all too busy talking to each other. Well, _he's_ been half hoping that she wouldn't show.

"Alright, as usual, let's just go around the room, okay?"

He feels himself literally sweating as it gets closer to his turn, his stomach turning like crazy. Rachel shakes her head and says that she's fine, and suddenly it's too late.

_Shit_.

He can feel her stare boring into him.

"I um-" He clears his throat, trying to clear that lodge between his vocal chords and his mouth. "I kind of have something to say."

He can literally see the whole room perking up, and he stifles a groan.

"That's _great_ Finn," Natalie tells him enthusiastically.

"Yeah," he mutters. They're all looking at him expectantly and even though he knows he's gonna lose a bunch of dude points for it, he closes his eyes anyway.

_Fine Rachel. Fine_.

"My erm- my mom's been taking care of me my whole life."

Okay that came out wrong. _Duh, Finn_. Of course she has. God, the first sentence, and he already sounds like a dumbass.

"What I mean is," he tries again. "Is that- well. It's kind of just the two of us. My dad died when I was really little, and it's just me and mom ever since. Like, she used to tell me that it was just us against the world, you know? Like when I was a kid and I'd ask her why my dad was gone and if maybe he could come back, and she'd tell me that we're a duo, like those heroes in comic books, you know? Like- like she's Supermom and I'm her sidekick and we'd take on the world together and-"

_Fuck_, he doesn't even know what he's saying right now. Why the hell is he even talking about this? He feels her hand close over his and his eyes fly open in surprise as he turns to find her nodding encouragingly at him, a silent "_you can do it Finn_".

_Yeah_. Yeah he can do this.

"The point is," he starts again, his tone still hesitant. "The point is that my mom is awesome. And like, she doesn't say it, but I know she's had to give up a lot because of me. Like, her dreams and stuff, 'cause you know, getting stuck with a kid and a dead husband isn't anyone's dream, right?" he jokes weakly.

Okay. Apparently it wasn't that funny. Whatever.

"Right. So um- like, all I ever wanted to do was make my mom proud, you know? 'Cause people treat her like shi-sorry. People aren't always all that nice to her, and it really pis- it makes me angry, you know? And like, I just- I just- I wanted to make her feel like all of the things she did for me didn't end up being this huge waste, you know? But I guess I never really knew how to do that. Like, I'm not the smartest kid in the world, and I get confused a lot. My grades get by enough so I don't get thrown off the team but, school is kind of out of the picture for me. And that doesn't really leave all that much to work on, y'know? But I figured, I had football. It's just something-"

He catches himself, trying not to dwell on the thought as he pushes through.

"It _was_ something that I was just good at. Like, if someone threw a ball my way, I could catch it and I just knew where to go and what to do. And- and at first I didn't even see it that way. I just liked to play, and getting on the football team was awesome. But after a while, like mostly after the Bieste came into the picture and told me that I could, I realized that football could be my ticket outta here. It could be _our_ ticket, me and my mom. And we worked really hard for it. And I _mean_ we."

" She'd be up at like, five in the morning, making me my protein shakes and hauling my ass up at six to start my training. Every single day. And she's totally tiny, but she's a tyrant. Like, she's worse than Coach sometimes. We have this like, intense woman that coaches the cheerleaders, Miss Sylvester, and I swear sometimes when she's on a roll, my mom scares me more than her. And she's got an arm too. She told me that I got all my skills from dad, but she throws pretty damn hard."

He grins, thinking of his mom and how she'd come to all his games in a number 5 jersey that she'd made by herself, and how she was always the loudest parent there, screaming her head off constantly, even when nothing was happening on the field. He used to get embarrassed _so_ bad. But now, now he thinks he's gonna really miss that.

"Anyway. I just- she doesn't say it, but I know she's disappointed. I mean- this- football- it just-" He stops again, feeling that familiar burn in the back of his eyes. He wills it away, clenching his fist and gritting his teeth with the effort. "It wasn't just _my_ dream, y'know? It was ours, and I just- she'll never say it, but I let her down. And I'm scared as hell right now, but I feel like I can't tell her that, you know? 'Cause she's scared as hell too and- and she pretends like she's not. She pretends like this isn't the end of the world, but it is. It is."

Xxx

He waits until everybody leaves, nodding his head at anybody who claps him on the back or tells him that he's going to make it (Make it _where_?). Kurt Hummel extends a hand out to him, and he shakes it cautiously.

"I think I misjudged you," Kurt tells him, smiling in his direction for the first time ever. He shrugs.

"It's cool. I get it."

Natalie's the last to leave, smiling at him so widely that it freaks him out. Her eyes that were already huge before, are even huger as she tells him that she's proud of him for being so brave.

"I learned that from someone I care about," he tells her, casting a glance in Rachel's direction. He knows she's waiting for everyone to leave too, because by now all she's doing is just doodling something on her notebook. He thinks it's probably stars. Natalie finally leaves, and she's still fixing her gaze on her notebook. He rolls his eyes, grabbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Watcha doin'?" he asks nonchalantly.

"Drawing."

"Stars?"

"If you must know, yes."

"Oh. How are your lungs today?"

"They're doing much better."

"That's awesome."

She's still not looking up.

"Listen, Rach-"

"That was very brave Finn."

She finally looks up.

"Erm- thanks? Wait, Rachel are you _crying_?" he asks, frowning. He didn't _mean_ to sound demanding.

"I was very moved by your confession," she answers defensively, swiping at her eyes.

"You were?" he asks, surprised. He thought he barely sounded like a coherent person.

"Yes. You and your mother have a beautiful relationship."

"Thanks," he mumbles, feeling bashful. "I think. So..." he drawls out the last word, looking at her tear-streaked face hopefully. "Am I forgiven?"

She cocks her head as she looks at him, and he gets the feeling that she's about to say something he's not going to like, judging by the slow smile spreading across her face.

"I admit, that was quite a daring move," she says slowly.

"Yeah..."

"But in the grand scheme of things, I believe that it will benefit you more than it does me."

"What does _that_ mean?" he asks, confused.

"It means that I want you to do something for _me_. I want you to sing for me," she tells him casually.

"Ex- excuse me?" he splutters in bewilderment.

"Well _you_ agreed with me that musical preferences are an important factor in getting to know someone. And by extension, musical abilities should also be included in that crucial list. Now you know mine, through_ involuntary _means, might I add. It's only fair that you show me the same courtesy."

"But I can't sing," he tells her slowly. Maybe she didn't get it the first time he told her.

"I think I'll be the judge of that."

"You're just doing this to torture me, aren't you?"

The smile she gives him is just way too cryptic to be genuine.

"Show me your musicality Finn," she tells him, standing up and patting him on the head (_the head_!), before she walks away.

Xxx

His _musicality_?

First she's got him speaking in public, and now she wants him to freaking sing in front of her?

No freaking way.

What the hell does "your musicality" even mean anyway?

_Hah_!

Xxx

He finds himself going through her daddy's mix. His mom looks at him in confusions when he shushes her in the middle of Journey.

He's never sung in front of anyone before.

But it can't be _that_ bad.

Right?

Xxx

The nurse catches him mid-chorus, singing at the top of his lungs.

She tries not to giggle when she takes his pressure, and his ears feel like they're about to spontaneously combust from the humiliation.

Xxx

He's starting to get pretty good at writing with his left hand.

Okay, so not really. It's barely coherent chicken scrawl. But at least it's readable. Kind of.

He reads it over once.

_Finn Hudson's one-man show_

_Sunday, noon._

_Admittance for one Rachel Berry._

_Good for a once in a lifetime performance. _

_NO repeat performances!_

What?

He's trying to be cute, okay, so shut up.

Xxx

She's asleep when he gets to her room, the oxygen mask held perfectly in place.

He frowns because he doesn't know where to put his paper. He settles for on her waist below her blanket, 'cause that way she'll see it when she wakes up, but her daddy won't find it and read it while she's asleep.

Xxx

He makes his mom promise not to come between 11 in the morning to four in the evening on Sunday, just in case. She's got this funny smile on her face when she nods her head in agreement.

He realizes that it's the most he's said to her in months.

Xxx

His hands are clammy again.

He _hates_ that feeling.

But he kinda doesn't hate _her_ for making him feel it.

Xxx

She knocks on the door at exactly 12 in the afternoon.

"Finn?" she calls out, like she's not sure if he's in or not even though he's right there in front of her. He waves at her from his bed and turns a little red when she walks in and he realizes that she's holding that lame piece of paper in her hand. She's probably taking it seriously, like that's an actual ticket or something.

"Hey," he says, smiling. She's not wearing her hospital gown. She's got some sort of dress on, with cupcakes all over it and a sunny yellow cardigan.

She's got cupcakes on her dress.

He's not really sure why he likes that so much.

She helps him onto his wheelchair and he tells her to sit on his bed. He looks up uncomfortably once they're in position.

"Ready?" he asks nervously. She nods, grinning brightly down at him. "Promise you won't laugh, okay?"

"Finn, I would never laugh at you," she answers solemnly. That makes him smile.

"Yeah, well you're like, amazing," he rambles nervously. "And I don't even sing outside the shower, so-"

"Finn," she cuts in, smiling.

"What?"

"Just sing."

"Okay. Okay."

He clears his throat a few times, and when he realizes that it's impossible to stall any longer, he sighs and opens his mouth.

"_Just a small town girl_," he starts uncertainly, blushing like crazy. "_Living in a lonely world_."

But she's beaming at him like crazy, and the next line comes easier. She bobs along to his melody, her fingers drumming against her thigh and his confidence grows with each line, until he's outright screaming at the bridge. He's so _totally_ out of tune, but he doesn't even care as he pretends to drum the air (not so easy with one hand), because she's smiling and laughing and the whole thing is just making him feel really, _really_ awesome.

"_Don't stop, believing! Hold on to that feeling_!"

He realizes that she's singing along (softly, but _still_), and his grin gets even wider as they finish the song together.

"I _love_ that song," she gushes once he's done.

"Yeah," he answers. "It's awesome. My mom used to go out with this dude called Darren, and we sang that all the time in the Summer. Well, before he left us for a girl from the Pick N Save... _Anyway_..."

"That was a great pick Finn," she tells him exuberantly, her face flushed from singing. He's still catching his breath to be honest. "I don't know what you're talking about, you're a great singer."

He snorts.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you _are_. Granted, you lack professional training, but you, my friend, have an abundance of untapped potential. You're very talented. You should listen to me, because I'm very talented too."

He ignores the slightly conceited way she ended her sentence, focusing instead on the first part.

"So we're friends?" he asks, grinning as he holds out his hand. She stares at his outstretched hand for a few seconds before she grins and grabs it.

"Friends. I've never been serenaded before you know."

He doesn't mention the fact that she _told_ him to serenade her.

Xxx

"I'm glad we're friends again," she tells him, sitting cross legged on his bed. "I missed being your friend."

He smiles at her, and even though it's totally girly, he's gonna say it anyway.

"I miss being your friend too." Besides, she makes him feel like he can tell her anything. Her smile grows even wider when he tells her that, and he thinks that maybe being manly is overrated anyway.

"I'm proud of you for doing what you did on Friday, opening up like that."

He shrugs, feeling shy for some stupid reason.

"I wanted you to know that I meant what I said."

"I already forgave you, you know."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to make you work for it. Just because I forgive easily doesn't mean that you can take that for granted Finn Hudson," she admonishes.

"I won't," he promises. He means it.

"You know, you're _just_ like my dad. When he's frustrated at something, he always channels all that anger onto my daddy. You both have what daddy calls, 'cataloguing issues'."

"Oh. Right."

"So have you talked to your mom?" she asks, leaning forwards closer towards him. "About what you told us?"

He looks awkwardly at the cupcakes on her dress. One of them looks like it's chocolate with pink icing, and it makes him feel a little hungry.

"Um.. No."

His head is spinning a little from trying to keep up with her. Boy, he forgets that when she's on a roll, she _really_ gets going. She looks at him for a long while, until he begins to feel uncomfortable.

"What?"

"She never visits me," she tells him quietly. She's looking at his cast instead of him, and he knows that this really bothers her.

"Shelby?"

She nods her head imperceptibly.

"I thought she might come, you know. Since I'm in the hospital and all. I used to wait for her every day. "

He rolls himself as close to her as possible and puts his good hand over hers, before turning her palm and locking their fingers together.

"I'm sorry," he tells her. He means it. He's honestly sorry that she's got such a bitch for a mom. She looks at their hands before she looks back up at him and smiles.

"Me too. You're very lucky Finn."

Xxx

He wakes up from another nightmare, the sweat dripping down his back as the memory of those two linebackers closing in on him plays over and over in his mind. He feels a slight pressure on his torso and looks down to find his mom resting her head against him.

"_She never visits me."_

"_Nothing you can ever do will ever make me turn away because I am your mother, and I love you."_

He doesn't always remember what people tell him, but those two sentences keep playing over and over in his mind, until his mom's voice and Rachel's become almost the same to him.

She's staring off into space, and she hasn't noticed that he's awake. He wonders if she's thinking of the past, of the dream that's never coming true.

He's scared shitless every single time he thinks of the future.

And he can't really think of the past without that ugly, bitter feeling getting in the way.

But the present's here. And maybe the present can be okay.

"Mama," he croaks, his voice still thick with sleep. Her head snaps towards him immediately, alert. He uses his good hand to hold hers. "I'm sorry."


	7. After the storm

**A/N: I guess I've been neglecting this story for my other one, but I hope you'll be patient with me. This fic is already halfway done =)**

* * *

><p><em>And after the storm<em>

_I run and run as the rains come_

* * *

><p>Physiotherapy is like that place you fall into when you screw up in Monopoly, only so much worse, 'cause at least in jail, they don't make you try to move a body part that won't <em>fucking<em> move.

Being in physiotherapy is like being in a torture chamber.

And Terrence Philips is the fucking warden or something.

Xxx

"I don't care who you are," Terrence Philips tells him as he's heaving, gritting his teeth as he tries to keep his leg straight, trying not to let it rest against the darker skin of the man's hand." I don't care what you've been through, and I have no interest to hear your sob story. That's not my job. You can go to a therapist for that, I think we have a lot of those. My job is to make sure that the parts that can still work, are gonna work like they should. And that means, you're going to hate me for the next three months. But I'm cool with that."

He can't hold it any longer, the pain is shooting up his leg and moving to the rest of him and he groans out loud as he gives up and allows his plaster free calf to fall against the hand below.

"And you just dropped your leg. Five more minutes."

He looks up in disbelief as Terrence ignores him, holding his leg back up in the previous position. He looks up at the clock on the wall. The session was supposed to end ten minutes ago.

_Fuck. You._

Xxx

He hurts. His whole body feels like it's on fire and he can barely move as he shuts his eyes. He hasn't been this tired since- well, since the last time anyone had ever made him work his ass off. There's still a shooting pain up his leg, and he groans as his muscles cramp up.

Someone touches his arm and he jumps a little before opening his eyes to find Rachel standing over him, her brows furrowed in worry.

"Hey," he says brightly, mustering up the strength to grin in her direction. She doesn't return it.

"Finn?" she starts hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

"Totally," he answers, nodding his head as he sits up and winces as the muscles of his leg contract. "Okay, not really."

"Is it physiotherapy again?" she asks sympathetically as she lends a hand to help him pull himself into a sitting position. He makes a face at the mention and the rest of his body concurs, the pain settling into a numb feeling.

"That dude is a total slave driver. Like, it's just so much easier for me to just walk around with a limp for the rest of my life," he mutters, annoyed.

She's settled herself on the armchair next to his bed, her feet dangling off the floor as she leans back and looks up at him.

"You don't really believe that, do you?" she asks anxiously. The worried frown she's currently wearing almost makes him smile.

"No," he answers honestly. "Of course not."

Although, sometimes when he's feeling bitter, he wonders what's the point of trying to be normal again, when he knows he'll never go back to the way he was. She breathes a sigh of relief and he laughs at her slightly more than called for reaction. She grins up at him as she sits forwards. He's glad that she's here. It's been a really quiet few days.

"Good," she answers, smiling. "I knew you were a fighter Finn," she continues confidently.

"Thanks Rachel. It's still a total bitch though," he complains glumly. She cocks her head towards him and grins, pulling the chair forward until she's at the edge of his bed, her hands gripping the frame.

"Want me to make you feel better?" she asks excitedly.

"Yeah, you can try," he tells her indulgently. He doesn't tell her that he's already started to feel better when he saw her.

"Okay. Knock knock. C'mon Finn, it's a joke," she says, rolling her eyes when he stares blankly back at her.

"Oh! Sorry. Erm, who's there?"

"Doris."

"Doris who?" he asks, grinning as she beams excitedly at him, waiting to say her punchline.

"Doris locked! That's why I'm knocking!" she finishes mirthfully, giggling. He chuckles. That was kinda funny. The last time he heard a knock knock joke, he was eleven and Puck made it _way_ too dirty.

"See? You're smiling," she tells him, grinning in satisfaction. He rolls his eyes but nods his head. He thinks maybe life in this place has been feeling even more like hell these days because she isn't here.

"So how's the real world?" he asks, feeling the rest of his bad mood start to disappear. She shrugs, playing with the ends of her dress. She finally left the hospital last weekend, and it's been a weird adjustment for him, not having a Rachel to see and talk to every single day. It really, really sucks to be honest, but Dr Chang told him that he's got about two weeks left too, and then he'll be the hell out of this place. He's not really sure how he feels about that yet.

"Okay," she tells him quietly.

"Just okay?" he asks. She shrugs, refusing to look up.

"I don't know. It's life back to normal, I guess. I miss talking to you though."

"Me too," he says, smiling. He forgets that school kinda sucks for her, and that things like cupcake dresses and rainbow shirts, like the one she's wearing now, don't exactly fly well in McKinley. He forgets that she doesn't really fit in at school because- well, because she just fits exactly right with him.

"You know, they really miss you back in therapy," he says.

"Really?" she asks, looking up at him doubtfully.

"Yep. Sandy kept telling me to tell you good luck so erm, good luck! And Kurt looked pretty sad when I told him you went home. Oh and Leslie said that her doctor told her that the chemo is working, and that you should visit her while she's still here or something. 'Cause she's going into remission," he continues quickly when her eyes grow large. "Not, like, dying or anything."

"Oh. I miss them too. You know, Kurt and I probably won't even be friends if we were still at McKinley. Like you and me. Can you imagine?"

He can, actually. He can imagine his life going the way it had for the past seventeen years, with Quinn by his side and the rest of the school for his taking. He can imagine going through his life never knowing who Rachel Berry is, having their only encounter be one stupid decision for a Slushie facial to get the team to back off of him. And for the longest time, that was all he wanted, his life back.

It's kind of funny and really confusing at the same time, because sometimes he thinks that's what he still wants. But he knows that living his old life means never, ever knowing Rachel. He gets the feeling that _that_ would hurt almost as much as never playing football again, only so much worse, 'cause he wouldn't even _know_ that he was hurting.

He's not sure how he's supposed to put all that into words though, but he doesn't have to, because someone knocks on his door and bursts in before either of them could say anything.

"Really, Finndork? This is why you've been in this dump for so long?" Puck says breezily, nodding his head towards Rachel, who gasped in surprise when she saw him. He's too surprised by the fact that Puck's even here to respond. "I mean, sure, you're kinda hot Berry, in a crazy Jew kinda way, but-"

"The hell are you doing here?" Finn asks, finally finding his voice. He ignores the deep frown on Rachel's face as his gaze stays on the boy in front of them. Puck says nothing to that, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he looks away.

"I'm going to leave," Rachel says softly. He turns to find her standing and wraps his fingers around her wrist.

"You don't have to," he tells her quietly. She looks between their connected hands and Puck, before she turns to look at him and shakes her head.

"Yes I do. I'll- I'll see you soon, k?" she finished, giving him a small smile as she extricates herself from his grip. She turns to walk stiffly out the door, ignoring Puck as she leaves them both in that awkward silence.

Xxx

"I'm not gonna question your taste, dude. I mean, it's gotta be slim pickings here in this place, and girl is kinda sneaky hot, even if she is a freak. Especially when she wears white and we get some grape Slushie on her. She ain't got that much rack, but-"

"Don't talk about her like that," he snaps angrily, unable to ignore Puck any longer.

"What? Like, the two of you are actually friends or something?" Puck asks derisively, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, we are. What the hell are you doing here?" he snaps. Puck says nothing, looking at him evenly as he ball his hands into fists. On the bed, Finn grips his sheets tightly with one hand.

"Fuck you, Hudson."

"Fuck _you_, asshole."

They're glaring at each other from where they are, and the urge to punch Puck in his stupid face is a strong one, and _fuck_. What the fuck is wrong with him? He's not about to bawl like a little girl, especially not in front of the dude who'll just rub it in his face for the rest of his fucking life.

Back when they were still friends, anyway.

"So you decided to ditch me for a loser with no friends."

"Don't talk about her like that!" he yells angrily as he sits up, ignoring the shooting pain up his leg. "And you ditched _me_, douchebag!"

"Yeah, because you actually wanted to see me whenever I came!" Puck yells back, red in the face as he comes closer.

"I can't play football again Puck! Do have any idea what that means? I couldn't fucking move to go to the bathroom and I can't play football ever again! So I'm sorry, if I was being an ass, but I-" he stops, sighing as the anger leaves him. He's just too tired for that. He's done with this.

"You're a fucking asshole Puckerman," he mutters, closing his eyes.

"I know."

He said it so softly, Finn's not sure if he actually heard right. He opens his eyes to find Puck standing next to his bed, guilt written all over his face.

"I'm an asshole, I know. We both know that. Hell, Finn I've been an asshole my whole life. So like, when you were being a total jerk and didn't wanna talk, and basically threw me out on my ass, I didn't know what to do. I'm not used to _you_ being the asshole. You were always the dumbass," Puck finishes, joking weakly.

"Screw you Puckerman," he answers, rolling his eyes. Puck's looking at him all guilty and shit, and there's something about the way he's staring at Finn's leg that twists his heart the wrong way. But he looks up, and the grim expression is replaced with a cocky smirk.

"Dude, seriously though. I'm the asshole and you're the dumbass, 'cause you know. You're the nice one or whatever, and that's how we roll. You know I'm no good with all this feelings shit, so just talk to me already, will you?"

"And _I'm_ supposed to be the dumbass?" he asks sarcastically, shaking his head at what is probably the worst attempt at an apology ever.

"You're my brother dude," Puck says quietly. "And it's not easy seeing life kick your ass."

The back of his eyes are burning, but _fuck_, he's not about to cry.

"Are we supposed to be cool now?" he asks quietly. He thinks he sees hope in Puck's face, and maybe that's good enough for him.

"I don't know Finn. Are we?"

"Okay."

xxx

"I fucking hate you for making me do all this chick shit, you know."

He rolls his eyes.

"I'm sorry breaking my bones and having my future shot to shit requires you to display some emotion."

Puck looks at him funny.

"What?"

"Shit man, you're starting to talk funny. You've been hanging around the crazy Jew too much."

"I guess I have," he answers, grinning.

Xxx

"Higher. Higher. There. Hold it there."

He feels the sweat dripping down his back as he grits his teeth, willing his leg to stay still.

"You're moving it. Don't move it."

"I'm trying."

"You're not trying hard enough. Don't move it."

He can't. He drops his leg, leaning himself against the wall as he groans. He opens his eyes to find Terrence eyeing him nonchalantly.

"Again."

Xxx

He's scrapping the bottom of his pudding cup when someone knocks on the door. He looks up to find her standing hesitantly in the doorway, holding something in her hands.

"Hey!" he calls out exuberantly. He hasn't seen her in days. He makes a mental note to ask for her number before she leaves. "What are you doing way over there? Come in."

She does, walking slowly towards him and placing a plate of cookies on his table. His eyes light up at the chocolate and he shoots her a dopey smile.

"Awesome! Thanks Rach," he says, peeling of the saran wrap and reaching out for a cookie. He's about to reach for another one when he notices that she still hasn't said a word.

"Hey," he calls out softly, picking out a cookie and waving it in front of her face to get her attention. "What's wrong? And why didn't you come yesterday?"

"I thought you'd be busy," she answers quietly, her voice a little cool. He frowns, still munching on his cookie (God, where have these babies _been_ all his life?).

"With what?"

"You know, with _Puck_." She says his name like it's a rodent she'd like to kill, and Finn kinda gets why. But still.

"Nah," he answers easily. "S'not like there's a whole lot we can do here. We just played a bunch of video games yesterday."

"Oh. So he was here?"

"Yeah."

"Did you have fun?" she asks curiously. He shrugs.

"I guess. I mean, it was something to do, you know?"

"You missed him, huh?" she asks, staring hard at the cookie in his hand. He grins, nodding sheepishly. Her frown deepens, which leads him to frown too. What's wrong?

"What's wrong?" he asks. She looks up at him doubtfully.

"Did you um- did you wait for me yesterday?"

"Yeah of course. I waited all day."

"Sorry," she murmurs.

"What's going on Rachel? You're acting weird."

She says nothing, and just looks at him for a few seconds before she sighs.

"You're going to think I'm weird."

"I already think you're weird, but I like you anyway," he jokes, grinning. She rolls her eyes and cracks a small smile before frowning again.

"I'm jealous," she admits. He looks at her dumbly.

"Of what?" he finally asks.

"Puck."

"Puck? _Why_?"he asks incredulously.

"'Cause he's your friend, and like, I don't- I just- maybe," she stops, taking a deep breath before she continues. "I'm just afraid you won't want to be my friend anymore now that he's back."

_Oh_. He says nothing because he's surprised, but she looks like she's about to cry, so he needs to think of something quick.

"That's crazy," he tells her. Okay, maybe that wasn't the best answer. "I mean, Rachel, of course I'm still your friend."

"But I'm a loser, and you know. You're not, and Puck Slushies me on a daily basis, practically-"

"He won't do that anymore."

She stops talking and looks up at him in surprise.

"You're gonna make him stop?" she asks, smiling. He grins back.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm gonna make him stop. He's not gonna bother you anymore, 'cause I won't let him."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Yes. 'Cause you're my friend, and I care about you."

"I care about you too," she says quietly, smiling.

"Yeah, so you know. It's totally crazy to think that I'm not gonna be your friend just 'cause I'm friends with Puck now. And you're not _that_ crazy. So like, stop thinking that."

"Okay."

"Awesome. Can I have more of these when you .come again?"

Xxx

He stares carefully at the cards in his hands, looking up and grinning at the determined crease on Rachel's forehead and the bored look on Puck's face.

"Noah, do you have any threes?" she finally asks politely.

"No Berry. I don't. This is stupid."

"Puck," he warns quietly, and Puck rolls his eyes at him as Rachel shoots him a small smile before reaching out to the pile of cards on his table.

They're playing Go Fish because Rachel came while Puck was still around. They were playing Poker before, but Rachel refused to play a 'gambling game' and Puck refused to leave, and they spent ten minutes arguing over what to play. Both Finn and Rachel ignored it when Puck suggested Strip Poker. They settled for Go Fish 'cause it turned out to be the only game that Rachel didn't need to be briefed on.

Puck's leaning back in his seat as Rachel sits perched at the edge of his bed, her feet dangling over the side.

"I need to be drunker for this," Puck mutters. She shoots him a dirty look.

"Does he _have_ to be here?" she asks grumpily, glaring pointedly in Puck's general direction.

"Rach," he starts tiredly. It's been seven days of the Puck and Rachel tug of war and today, they've been at it for hours, taking turns to insult the other and he's getting really, really bored of playing the referee. "C'mon."

"Yeah 'Rach'. C'mon. Can't stand to be in the same room with all this sexy manliness?" Puck asks, smirking. She snorts, rolling her eyes.

"Please. Has anyone ever told you how stupid that Mohawk looks? Whatever gave you the idea that having a haircut made for the seventies was a good one?"

"I'm a badass Berry, and we badasses make trends, we don't follow. And besides, I don't take advice from a girl who dresses like she's twelve. It's not even kinky, it's just creepy, and your lack of anything worth checking just makes it even creepier."

"Guys-"

"You are a Neanderthal Noah Puckerman. You're detestable and contemptible, and I despise you."

"Yeah, let's just get this straight. My buddy Finn here may see something attractive in all... whatever you are, but I've seen my fair share of crazy Jew women, and you definitely take the cake-"

"Puck-"

Rachel lets out the loudest gasp he has ever heard as she jumps to her feet, her eyes flashing. He thinks he sees her face starting to crumble, and uh-oh, that's not a good sign.

"You're nothing but a big bully, and all you ever do is tear people like me down. You think you're so great, walking around school terrorizing the losers, but I'll have you know Noah Puckerman, that I'm going to be someone someday and all you're going to be is a washed up high school dropout who still lives with his mother."

Well shit. When she's pissed, Rachel's a total bitch.

He sees the hurt flash over Puck's face for a second before he covers that up with another smirk.

"Well until that happens, I guess you'll just have to deal with it, RuPaul."

"Puck!" he yells, finally getting a word in edgewise as Rachel takes a deep breath to retort. This is seriously starting to annoy the hell out of him. "Stop being a jerk, c'mon! And you too!"

"_Me_?" Rachel squeaks indignantly, "What did-"

"Why'd you have to say all that huh? Is that what you really think? That we're just a couple of Lima losers that are never gonna make it out of this place?"

"I didn't _say_-"

"_All_ I wanted, was a simple card game, but seriously, if you can't even pretend to be nice to each other for five minutes, why bother?"

"Dude-"

"Finn-"

"You know if I wanted this much stress, I'd have asked Terrence for an extra session of physio," he finishes, glaring at them both, ignoring the slightly chastened expressions on their faces.

"I'm tired. I'mma go to sleep. See you guys tomorrow. Or not. Whatever."

Xxx

"I can't do this!" he yells, frustrated as he drops himself back onto the blue mat.

"Don't be a baby Hudson. A six year old can do this."

"Yeah? Well a six year old didn't have his knee torn out of his skin."

"Oh boohoo. You're so special."

"Fuck you, asshat," he growls angrily, looking up at Terrence looming before him, glaring. The older man raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he stands over Finn's prone figure.

"You done bitchin'?"

"No. You're an asshole, you know that? I'm busting my ass off here but this is hard, okay? It fucking hurts, and it's not all that easy to bend my fucking leg when it _doesn't_ want to bend, okay? It's easy for you to say that I'm not trying hard enough, what the hell would you know about it anyway? You didn't spend almost two whole stupid months in a stupid wheelchair while Sam fucking Evans take over all your games and like, the rest of your fucking _life_. And plus, you don't even have friends who are too busy hating each other to pay attention to you. So you don't know anything about me, okay? You have no fucking right to call me a baby or to say that I'm not trying."

He spits the last word out angrily as he sits up, because yelling at someone while you're lying down just doesn't have the same effect. Terrence is still looking at him with that stupid casual expression on his face. All the anger he feels fly out the window at the small smile he receives.

"Feel better?" Terrence asks, holding out his hand. Finn takes it, letting the man pull him up.

"Yeah," he says sheepishly. "Sorry. I just-"

"Whatever. No personal stuff, remember? You need a break?"

He turns his head towards the wall, looking up at the time. There's fifteen minutes left, and he shakes his head.

"Again."

Terrence nods in approval, helping him back down.

"You got a lot of determination kid," he says, clapping Finn in the back. "But you don't got a lot of patience."

Xxx

He's pretending to be asleep, mostly because he's still pissed, and partly because he's just really not in the mood to be in the middle of that tug of war again.

Rachel comes in first and he hears her trying to be quiet. He thinks he smells cookies, but he's not about to blow his cover. He feels her coming closer, and feels her hand smoothing away the hair on his head.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, the tone of her voice filled with so much guilt it almost makes him cave.

"You doing some voodoo shit or something?"

He holds back a groan when he hears Puck's comment and feels Rachel's hand leave his forehead.

"I'm not about to get into an argument with you Noah."

"Chill Berry. I'm here in peace."

"What's that?" His ears prick up at the curious tone of Rachel's voice.

"Grape Slushie. You know, for all the ones I used to dump in your face."

"Are you-"

"I'm not making fun of you. I figured you'd appreciate the gesture."

He holds his breath when Rachel doesn't say a word. He'd take a peak, but he thinks she's still standing in front of him.

"I do," she finally says, and he hears her feet shuffling.

"Thanks," she says, and they're both quiet for a moment.

"You know Berry, you still make me want to set myself on fire when you talk too much, but Finn likes you, and I guess that means I'll learn to tune you out or something."

"Gee, Puck. Thanks," she answers back sarcastically.

"Don't mention it. And plus, you're still annoying as all hell, but Jew to Jew, you're not that crazy."

"Thanks, I guess. And I'm sorry for saying that you'll never leave this town. You will if you want to."

"S'cool."

"So... friends?"

"Let's settle for not killing each other first."

"Okay. Hey! That's Finn's!"

"Dude's not gonna miss a cookie."

Actually, yes he will.

"We'll you can' take the 'Y'! Then it just says sorr! At least take the apostrophe."

"I take it back. You're batshit insane."

"Shut it Puckerman!"

He turns his head into the pillow to hide his smile.

Xxx

"You know Berry," Puck starts conversationally as she sits next to him on his bed, and Puck takes his seat in the chair. They're playing Go Fish again, only this time they're not driving him crazy. Finn hands over the two of Clubs that he has to Rachel, and she smiles, whispering a soft thank you as she takes it.

"Your rack's not as bad as I thought. I mean, you can't hang a hat off those tits, but you got a pretty nice-"

"_Puck_!" They both yell, exasperated.

"What?" Puck asks, holding up his hands as he looks at Finn. "I'm giving her a compliment."

"Seriously dude?" he asks, rolling his eyes. So much for things changing. But Rachel starts to giggle, and when he turns to look at her in surprise, she breaks out into a full laughter. He turns to look at Puck, who shrugs at him as if to say, "she's _your_ crazy friend".

"Rachel?" he asks carefully.

"You just compared me to a coat hanger, didn't you?" Rachel asks when she calms down.

"So what if I did?"

"Nothing. I'm just learning to appreciate your unique sense of humor."

Rachel beams at the other boy and he turns to look at Finn in alarm.

"She's turning her crazy onto me," Puck tells him. "Make her turn it off."

"Her crazy's awesome," he answers, grinning.

* * *

><p><em>And I look up, I look up<em>

_On my knees and out of luck_

_I look up_


	8. Readjustment

**_A/N: This chapter was the result of two stomach viruses, one killer migraine and the sinking feeling that I've sold my soul to the devil in the form of a multinational corporation. In other words, writer's block sucks._**

* * *

><p><em>I'm coming hope to lights and buzz<em>  
><em>Streets look the same<em>  
><em>Still nothing's as it was<em>

* * *

><p>He guesses that it's kind of ironic what he's feeling.<p>

He'd spent the past three months restlessly waiting for the day he'll be able to get out and get away from the creepy clean, sanitized smell of the hospital. But now that the day is finally coming, he finds himself feeling anxious; almost wishing that he could have a few more days to like, prepare himself or something, which is totally stupid he knows.

(He realizes that Puck's right. He _is_ starting to sound like Rachel. A few months ago, he didn't even know what irony was. It's awesome though, because he thinks he feels ironic a _lot_, and it's nice to finally know what the hell it is that he feels all the time.)

But the hospital is starting to feel like home, or at least, the one place where he still feels like he belongs. The idea of actually stepping back out into the real world kind of scares the shit out of him, not that he'd ever tell that to anybody. It's a crazy kind of cycle he's stuck in, driving himself crazy at the thought of spending one more day stuck inside the ever-present white walls, and driving himself crazy at the thought of stepping out and having all his realizations as a failure come raining down like anvils on his head.

He hasn't been sleeping well for the past week, the old nightmare he used to have about those two linebackers pounding him to the ground making its appearance constantly, interspersed with dreams of him walking down the school hall, completely invisible to everyone.

His mom kind of radiates these days, and he thinks maybe it's because he's going home soon, because he's pretty sure she's about as sick of this place as he is. She keeps going back, telling him that she needs to make their house as clean and as homely as possible for his return. He thinks she's contradicting (another Rachel word) herself, because if she's cleaning herself crazy, then he's pretty sure his house is going to smell just like the hospital, and yeah, he barely remembers what home actually smells like, but he doubts it's of floor bleach and starch.

Dr. Chang keeps talking about how he's finally leaving and how much progress he's made in the last four months (he guesses upgrading from a wheelchair to a pair of crutches is a pretty huge deal, especially when he thinks about Artie and wow, he's glad he can barely remember the god-awful pain of his bones trying to stick themselves back together. Although on particularly chilly nights, that shooting pain up his leg reminds him.), and Puck's already planning their first lost weekend of "booze and bitches" (_totally_ his words) to commemorate his escape from this "hell hole".

Rachel and Terrence are really the only ones who never mention him leaving, and oddly, he finds himself comforted by that, feeling the pressure of the impending future lift off him every time he's with them. Although really, that pressure is just replaced with a more physical one when he's with Terrence, because apparently their little bonding moment had done nothing to soften the older dude's hard ass. But Rachel comes in with her new knock-knock joke after every grueling session, and he's coming to the realization that she's possibly the most adorable person he's ever met in his life, and it's weird how all the things he used to think made her slightly off her rocker are now just part of the charm.

But five days feels both like a lifetime and just a fraction of a second, and it keeps him up at night.

Xxx

"Three, two, one. Okay. You're done."

He grunts loudly as he leans back against the leg extension, his muscles straining. Terrence hands him a bottle of water which he accepts gratefully, chugging down huge gulps, drenching the front of his shirt along the way.

"You're like a baby Hudson, you're dribbling all over yourself," Terrence remarks, standing over him with his hands on his hips. Finn ignores this, and continues draining his water bottle. The dude calls him a baby every single day. The insult is starting to wear off.

"So I heard that you're leaving," the older man starts conversationally, and he feels that familiar tug in his stomach every time the issue comes up.

"Yep," he answers, trying to be nonchalant as Terrence starts picking up the weights off the floor. The older man nods when it becomes obvious that Finn's not about to elaborate.

"The first week is always the hardest," he says casually. "It's gonna be hell for you Hudson."

"Gee, thanks," Finn answers sarcastically.

"Just giving you a little friendly warning. The rest of the world's not gonna magically understand what it's like for you now."

He knows this. It keeps him awake at night and terrifies him every single time he remembers, and really, it doesn't help when someone acknowledges it. But he guesses it's better than his mom, who for some reason seems to think that things are just going to go back to the way they were. He knows they aren't, he just doesn't know if that's a bad or a good thing.

"What happened to not giving a fuck about my personal life?" he asks good-naturedly, hoping that it'll steer them away from this conversation. Terrence looks at him appraisingly before he grins, clapping Finn in the back.

"I still don't. Just as long as you make sure you get your ass here on time. Don't think that you're home free, you've still got a month of torture left."

"Bring it," he answers with a grin, relieved that it's over. He stands, grabbing the crutches he left by the contraption. It takes him less than 10 seconds, and that might not sound like much, but hell, it used to take him five minutes and it hits him finally, just how far he's come.

He's hobbling towards the door when Terrence speaks again.

"It's okay to be afraid."

He stops, refusing to look back.

"I'm not."

"Well then you've got more guts than I ever did. Good luck Finn."

Xxx

He waits in front of the closed office, tapping his good foot impatiently against the floor. He's been waiting for close to ten minutes now, and he's getting restless. Add that to the fact that he's always restless when he sees her, he's starting to turn into a nervous wreck. He stares at the clock on the wall.

It's 11:11. He thinks Rachel told him once that it was supposed to mean something, or maybe that was just when it's at night. He can't even remember what it's supposed to mean in the first place.

_Whatever_.

His mom's in his room, packing up the rest of his stuff, not that there were a lot to begin with, in the first place. He feels foreign in his clothes, which is weird in a way, 'cause he's in his old, ratty jeans and his blue and white checked shirt that smells like the detergent his mom uses for as long as he could remember. But he's been wearing those stupid hospital gowns and the same two pairs of Bermuda shorts and t-shirts for five months, and what used to be familiar to him feels alien now.

Before he has time to dread going home, the door swings open and a sullen, pissed off kid walks out the door, shooting him a dark look along the way.

"She's all yours," he mutters sarcastically.

"Erm- thanks," Finn mumbles, ignoring the bandage wrapped completely around the guy's head as he shoots the dude a friendly smile that he completely ignores. It's cool. He totally gets it though, 'cause she's always had the uncanny ability to piss off people who were already pissed to begin with. He stifles a sigh as he turns towards the open door. She's sighing as she closes her eyes tiredly and it throws him off, because he's pretty sure that it's the first time he's ever seen her without that huge-ass smile on her face. He knocks slowly against her door.

"Natalie?" he calls out tentatively. Her eyes shoot open, and just like that, the huge beam is back in place.

"Finn! Come in."

He does as he's told, leaning against one crutch as he closes the door behind him.

"So you're leaving today," she starts boisterously as he takes a seat. He's working really hard not to grimace.

"Yeah," he says. An awkward silence ensues, at least from his end anyway.

"How do you feel about that?" she asks, leaning forward to look expectantly at him.

"Erm," he starts, "Okay, I guess."

"You must be ecstatic to finally get away from this place."

"Y-yeah."

She stares at him shrewdly as he grabs the back of his neck, unsure of what to do.

"You don't sound all that excited," she notes.

"I don't?"

"How are you feeling Finn?" she asks softly. "Really?"

_Crap_. How many times must they go through this until she'll finally realize that he'd just rather not talk about it?

"I feel fine," he says. Is it just him, or is that smile on her face wavering?

"I can't help you if you won't talk to me Finn."

But he doesn't want her help.

Maybe he shouldn't say that though, 'cause she's probably had enough hostility from that other kid, and it's not like he's all that pissed with her anyway. Actually, he's not pissed with her at all. He's just- he's just-

"Restless," he blurts out. "I feel- I just- I don't know how I feel."

The strain around her eyes relaxes a little as she looks at him solemnly for the first time.

"It's okay to be scared," she says slowly. "I'm serious," she continues when he scoffs at that.

"You spent the last five months coming to terms with what happened to you, and now you're going to have to start all over again. You're going to be around people you've known your whole life, but you're different now, and you don't know how that's going to affect your relationships with them-"

"Yeah. I get it. Thanks," he mumbles, cutting in. She's not helping. Like at all. Although really, does he even have 'relationships' with these people still? He hasn't seen anyone, aside from his mom and Puck and Rachel and the rest of the dudes from the hospital. He doesn't even know if they're thinking of him anymore. Puck never says anything about it either, other than to tell him once that Sam's the quarterback now (duh). And he gets it, okay? He was the one who pushed them all away, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt when they stopped coming. It was just easier when he's still here. Like, it's just easier to forget that there's a whole world out there that he needs to face when he's stuck in a hospital bed.

"Finn." He looks up to find Natalie smiling kindly at him, her fingers outstretched to hand him a name card. "If you need any help adjusting, you just call me okay? Or better yet, I've talked with your school counselor, and she seems to be more than willing to lend an ear if you just need someone to talk to-"

"Miss Pillsbury?" he asks doubtfully. He's only met her once when the whole football team was called in because of the Slushie thing, and she was so skittish, she'd spent the whole time clasping and unclasping her hands.

"-sweetest young woman. Obsessed with germs, sure, but other than that, she's a good, well-equipped counselor," Natalie finishes, smiling at him like she's waiting for him to say something. He can't exactly tell her that he wasn't listening to a word she was saying.

"She's very erm- clean," he says instead. She lets out this little snort that surprises him before she catches herself.

"Yes Finn," she answers, amused. "That she is. And she's great at what she does, so if you have anything that's worrying your mind, don't hesitate to talk to her."

He seriously doubts that he'll ever talk to Miss Pillsbury about anything.

"I will," he says instead, pasting a smile on his face.

"Well then I guess that's it," Natalie finishes, making a move to stand. He does the same, pushing himself up with his hands. "It's been a pleasure to work with you Finn."

He shakes the hand she extends.

"Yeah. Thanks, you know. For everything," he says politely. She grins at him.

"I hope I never have to see you again."

He relaxes, smiling sincerely for the first time in her presence.

"Me too."

Xxx

"You ready sweetie?" his mom asks, slinging his duffle bag over her shoulder as she smiles at him.

No.

"Yeah," he says, smiling at her as he shuffles closer. "Yeah, let's go."

Xxx

His phone buzzes as his mom pulls out of the parking lot. He fishes it out of his pocket, smiling when he sees her name.

_Where are you?,_ she asks.

"Who're you talking to?"

"Rachel," he answers absent-mindedly as he types out his reply.

_**In the car.**_

His mom turns on the radio and starts humming along to Billy Joel, and he leans back against his seat, staring out the window as he waits for her reply.

It comforts him a little, the way everything looks just like the last time he saw them.

His phone buzzes again.

_Welcome back to the real world, Finn Hudson. I'll see you around._

He grins.

_**I'm counting on it**_**.**

Xxx

"Welcome home baby!" his mom exclaims, throwing her arms out as he steps through the door. His eye catches the streamers along the mantel, the big welcome sign hung across the wall.

Home smells like old furniture, pine tree fresheners and his mom's apple pie.

The smile spreads slowly over his face, and he looks down to find his mom looking up at him in anticipation.

"Thanks mom."

He's home.

Xxx

His room is empty. It's clean, no dirty socks left on the floor, no dirty dishes stacked on his desk, no football thrown carelessly on the floor in front of his closet. He moves slowly towards it, opening the door tentatively.

His shirts are lined carefully, t-shirts folded neatly in their place. He can't find his letterman.

His phone buzzes.

_Does it feel weird yet?_

_**You have no idea.**_

_You doing okay?_

He smiles, an image of her unwittingly entering his mind. She's probably frowning as she types, biting her lip as she waits for him to reply_._ She does that a _lot_, bite her lip he means.

_**Yeah I'm doing okay. Thanks for asking.**_

_Want me to come over?_

He does. He wants her to come over, because the empty room is starting to overwhelm him, but he knows his mom probably spent hours in here, cleaning all of his football things out, and he doesn't want to make her guilty by asking for them back. He thinks Rachel would understand. Maybe she's the only one who ever will.

He starts typing furiously.

**You don't have to. But if you do, do you still have some of that banana bread you brought yesterday?**

"Finn! Someone's here to see you."

He drops his phone in surprise, whipping his head towards the door in confusion before he smiles.

She's here already?

"Tell her to come up!" he yells back, groaning as he sits on the bed so that he can reach down and grab his phone. He stretches out his hand towards it, wincing as the muscles above his calf strains just a little. There's a knock on the door.

"Hey Ra-"

He stops short as he looks up, surprised at the sleight figure standing under the doorway, her eyes crinkled in a familiar smile.

"Hi Finn."

"Quinn," he breathes out.

xxx

"What are you doing here?" he asks, voice subdued as he remains in his position on the bed. She's sitting next to him, and the few inches of space between them feels like it's a whole lot more than just physical distance.

"I came to see you," she answers softly. He knows she's looking at him, but he can't bring himself to do the same. It took him ten minutes to even utter the question in the first place, so looking up to face her isn't really an option for him.

"Why?"

"I- Because I care about you Finn. I wanted to see how you're doing."

"Funny," he answers sarcastically, feeling the resentment he hasn't felt in a long time push up towards the surface, breaking through his skin. "You didn't care five months ago."

"I did!" she answers, the pitch in her voice increasing ever so slightly. This means she's upset. He knows this because he had spent the last four years learning to read her. "I _do_ care. Finn look at me. Please."

He won't.

"_Please_," she whispers again, her voice breaking as she inches closer. She wraps a hand around his arm and a whiff of her vanilla scent permeates the space between them. It's a little jarring how familiar this feels. He turns, finding himself staring into her green eyes, wet from her tears.

She's beautiful, Quinn. She's always been beautiful. It's one of the things that have always made him in awe of her. And yeah, she's one those girls who look even prettier when they cry.

He still hates it when she does though.

"I'm sorry," she says earnestly, leaning in even closer. He doesn't say a word, he can't say a word, because it's been five months without her, but in this empty, strange room that's not really his, all he's thinking of is the last four years with her.

"I love you Finn. I'm sorry."

Xxx

"I can't just- you hurt me, Quinn," he says quietly, closing his eyes to keep his frustrations in check.

"I know," she answers softly.

"You can't just come back and think that everything's going to be okay with us."

"I know."

"It's not."

She inches even closer, until he feels her pressing up against his back as her hands come around him.

"I made a mistake. But I still love you Finn. Do you still love me?"

He says nothing. He can't answer that. He feels her stiffen.

"You don't love me anymore?" she asks, her tone calm (but he knows she's faltering, mostly because he just knows her).

He can't answer that either.

Xxx

She tells him how hard these five months have been for her, how sometimes she feels so alone because she was always so used to him being there. She tells him how much she misses him, how she spends every day with her finger on the number 3, daring herself to speed dial him before she chickens out.

She tells him that she tried to give him his space. She says she's had enough of space.

He comes off feeling like the separation was his fault.

Xxx

"I should get going," she says, standing up from the bed, standing over him.

He's still sitting in that damn position. She leans down to kiss his cheek.

"I'll wait" she whispers.

She walks out the door. He hears her say goodbye to his mom. She's got him even more confused than before.

Rachel.

He looks down at his phone to find one pending message.

_So I guess I'll just see you at school tomorrow then. Welcome home Finn._

He still wants her to come. Maybe she'll be able to help him make some sense out of all this.

He doesn't ask her to though.

Xxx

His mom drops him off at the entrance of the school with a quiet _good luck_, and louder _I believe in you Finn._

He's forgotten how scary school is. He can feel eyes boring into the back of his head as he walks, and it makes him look down, staring at the feet connected to all the people that are whispering about him behind his back.

He spots a pair of light pink flats when he nears his locker. It's connected to a pair of legs wrapped in white knee highs.

He grins as he looks up to find her beaming up at him.

"Hi," he says cheerfully once he reaches her.

"Hi," she answers, smiling almost shyly. She thrusts out brown paper bag towards him. "Here."

"What is it?" he asks curiously.

"Banana bread. I know how much you liked the ones I made."

It's like she's psychic.

"Awesome! Thanks Rach," he says giddily as he takes a peak in the bag.

"It's just a little welcome-back-to-McKinley treat," she answers nonchalantly, although her cheeks get a little pinker.

"This is totally making my day," he tells her as he reaches in to stuff a piece into his mouth.

"Well that didn't take much," she teases as she nudges his arm.

"You always make my day," he answers truthfully. She blushes at that and her beam gets a little wider. She's opening her mouth to speak when he feels an arm looping through his.

"Welcome back to school baby," Quinn whispers in his ear, pressing her lips against his jaw. Rachel's eyes widen in surprise and he pulls away immediately.

"What are you-" he starts, but Quinn's already holding out her hand towards Rachel.

"Hi, I'm Quinn Fabray, Finn's girlfriend," she introduces herself, smiling. "Who are you?"

Rachel looks at the outstretched hand like it's alien, looking back up at Quinn as she frowns.

"I'm Rachel Berry. You know me. You've been calling me RuPaul for the past three years," she answers, taking Quinn's hand and shaking it.

He's not entirely sure what's going on.

"I'm sorry about that. Puck tells me you met Finn at the hospital. It's been really great of you to look out for him while I wasn't around. Any _friend_ of Finn's is a friend of mine."

It feels a little like he's in the middle of a bitch fight right now as Rachel pastes the fakest smile he's ever seen on her face. Quinn looks down at the watch on her wrist before she looks up at him with a warm smile.

"Sorry, I have a meeting with Miss Sylvester, so I'll see you later Finn, okay?"

Quinn flashes him another blinding smile before she bounds off, her little Cheerio skirt swaying behind her before he can get a word in edgewise. He turns to find Rachel frowning at the same direction. She turns back to look at him, and he can't read the look in her eyes.

"I'll see you around Finn," she mumbles.

"Where are you going?"

"I have English."

"I can walk you to class," he offers. She shakes her head, the smile on her face strained.

"No thanks. I have to make another stop… somewhere. Bye Finn."

"Bye," he answers, taken aback by the way she abruptly turns on her heels.

He watches as she walks away, noting the droop of her shoulders.

What the hell just happened?


	9. School's in session

_**A/N: Have you ever been so physically exhausted that your mind stops working? Thank you for all the support I've been getting for this story. I promise I have absolutely no intention of discontinuing this, I just have issues with the hours of the day =). Here's a relatively short update that will hopefully tide you over until next time. Thanks to CarmenMauri, who unknowingly gave me a new plotline to work with, hence this chapter.**_

* * *

><p><em>In this place<em>

_A lonely escapade in outer space_

* * *

><p>He gets the feeling like she's avoiding him.<p>

He tries to tell himself that it's just 'cause their schedules aren't in sync because he hasn't seen her once since this morning by his locker.

It's lunchtime, and he's hobbling his way to the cafeteria, the brown bag filled with the turkey sandwich his mom packed in one hand, and his backpack filled with his books for the entire day slung over his shoulder.

The day has been passing by unbearably slow, with his teachers in every single period pasting a bright smile on their faces to welcome him when he steps into the classroom, even Mr. Finch the History teacher, and that dude hates him, if calling him "Football Brain" for the past year was anything to go by. But he's just "Finn" now.

If the teachers were happy to see him, then the other kids must hate him or something, since no one is really looking him in the eye, and he's pretty sure most of them are actually going out of their way to _not_ be anywhere near him. He guesses the whole throwing-all-visitors-out-the-door thing must have spread or something. He's just grateful that at least after lunch he has Spanish with Puck. The only not-so-bad thing that happened was that he bumped into Quinn between third and fourth period, and she had given what he thought must be an encouraging smile when she squeezed his hand.

He's still not sure how he feels about it yet, the whole Quinn situation. She's pretending like nothing is wrong between them, and other than the fact that she's been MIA for the past few months, he guesses nothing is. And even that, he's realized, was really kind of his fault for pushing her away in the first place. Quinn is still Quinn, and he's still Finn and things could probably go back to the way they were, right? He's not really sure _what_ they are, since he's pretty sure you need to actually break up to, well, _break up_.

So they're not broken up, but they're not really together either, although she wants to be, and there's really nothing holding him back, except for that funny feeling in his gut that maybe it isn't what he really wants. He'd talk to Rachel about it, but something tells him that that's not the best idea, and besides, he needs to actually be able to _see_ Rachel to talk to her.

It's only the first day back, and he's already overwhelmed as he stands at the entrance of the cafeteria, desperately scanning for a familiar face that won't turn away from him. The corner of his eye catches the bright pink sleeve of her cardigan and he turns, smiling when he sees her walking alone towards an empty seat five tables away. She looks up and catches his eye, but before his hand could come up in a wave, she's already turning around as she begins to walk purposefully in the opposite direction.

There's no maybe about it.

She's definitely avoiding him.

He starts, almost falling over as someone claps him on the back.

"Dude. The hell you doing?" He turns to see Puck grinning at him. "Trouble in paradise?"

"What?" he asks, confused as he hobbles along with his friend.

"What's up with Crazy?"

"Don't call her that," he answers automatically as Puck waves him off, plopping down on an empty seat and glaring at the kid next to him until he scoots away, leaving his seat empty for Finn. Finn turns to smile apologetically, but the sleight kid is already making a beeline for the door.

"Dude. He was still eating."

"So? The whole damn place is packed. It's his own fault for taking his time. Where'd Berry go?" Puck answers as he shoves a fistful of chips in his mouth.

"I dunno," Finn answers, annoyed. "She got all weird this morning."

"Weirder than usual?"

"Yeah, like _really_ weird. Ever since Quinn-"

"Wait, Quinn?" Puck asks. Finn grimaces as flecks of chips sprays out of Puck's mouth to land on his face.

"Yeah. I mean, I was talking to her when Quinn came up to me this morning- why are you laughing?"

"You're such a noob Hudson," Puck says, shaking his head as he pops another fistful of chips into his mouth. "What the hell were you thinking? Never, _ever_ let the girlfriend and the mistress be in the same room together."

Puck nods his head knowingly at the end of his sentence like he knows what he's talking about, which is good, because Finn's having trouble following _anything_ that just came out of his mouth. Except for that piece of spit-covered chip that just landed on his arm. _Ew_.

"Seriously, _what_ are you talking about?"

"Quinn and Rachel, sharing the same space. Or is it Rachel and Quinn now? I thought you'd at least be smart enough to keep that shit from hitting the fan right off the bat, but dude, I forgot that this is you."

"Okay first of all, what's that supposed to mean? And how was I supposed to know Quinn was going to go all clingy and touchy or that Rachel was suddenly going to be all weird? And the hell man? That's not what it's like at all."

"What, you mean you haven't been sweet on Berry when the 'ice Quinn' was out of the picture?" Puck asks sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes, stifling an impatient groan at Puck's words.

"Rachel's not like that. We're just _good_ friends. You would know something about that if you stopped trying to hump anything with a lady part. And Quinn and I, I don't know what the hell we are," he finishes grumpily.

"If I were you, I'd say as dead as that roadkill in the mystery meat, but-"

"It's complicated."

"There you go," Puck finishes dryly. He doesn't like the way the dude is looking at him. It's pissing him off to be honest.

"What?" he snaps, shielding his sandwich as Puck's hand comes near it.

"It's _complicated_," Puck mocks in a shrill voice. "You're the girliest giant I know Hudson."

"And you're the sluttiest manwhore _I_ know," he shoots back, annoyed. Puck merely raises an eyebrow as his hand quickly grabs half of Finn's sandwich when he lets his guard down. Taking a huge bite, the other boy shrugs his shoulders.

"And look who's the happy one."

Xxx

Puck steals one of his crutches and uses it to flip the skirt of every girl that walks past him on their way to Spanish as he hobbles a few feet behind. He rolls his eyes as his friend leers at one enraged senior, currently giving him an earful, the snatched crutch safe in her hand.

"You're an idiot," he says as he catches up to them. She turns to look at him in surprise before she turns back towards his friend, one hand on her hip.

"Boy speaks the truth," she says with disdain. "Welcome back Finn," she continues as she turns to him and smile.

"Uh- thanks.."

"Leslie."

"Thanks Leslie," he says gratefully, because that's the first smile he's received from his peers all day. Leslie returns his crutch and turns to walk away, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Puck straightening his posture.

"Hey Polka dot! See ya at the bleachers in four hours," he practically hollers out. Finn watches in alarm and Leslie turns, her face as red as a lobster, hands clenched in fists.

"Screw you Puckerman," she spits out before turning on her heel and walking away.

Puck snickers beside him, shaking his head.

"She'll be there," he says confidently, watching her walk away."

"Yeah, 'cause every girl lives to be sexually harassed," Finn answers dryly.

"Oh I'm sorry Berry-clone, did my manly ways offend your girlish heart?"

"You're an idiot," he mutters, shaking his head. His eye catches Coach Bieste walking briskly towards his direction. The _one_ person he doesn't want talking to him, and of course she'll be within range when the hallway is almost empty.

_Shit._

"Hurry the hell up man," he hisses, quickly turning left into Spanish. He uses the crutch Leslie returned to shove Puck's ass into class, closing the door quickly behind him with a loud thud. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turns around to see Puck raising an eyebrow at him and practically the whole class looking in his direction.

"What?" he mouths defensively in Puck's direction before turning to Mr Lopez, who's looking at him funny too.

"Erm... Hola."

That was a close one.

Xxx

He has no idea what went on during Spanish, the only second he wasn't sleeping with his eyes open being the moment he felt his pocket vibrating.

He was hoping it'd be Rachel.

It wasn't. It was Quinn, asking him if he'd like to hang out after school.

He forgets to answer because he didn't really know if he'd like to hang out after school with Quinn. The only thing he did know was that he wants to talk to Rachel because he wants to know exactly what was up with her today.

So when he finds Quinn waiting by his locker at the end of the day, he's momentarily startled. She smiles when she sees him and does a little wave. He nods, because waving is too inconvenient.

"Hi," she says brightly, leaning up to kiss his cheek for the second time. He stiffens when he feels her lips against his skin, and she pulls back, confused.

"What?" she asks, smiling in bemusement when all he does is just look at her.

"Why did you do that?" he asks quietly.

"Do what?"

He looks at her for a few seconds longer as she continues to look back at him blankly, and he wonders for a moment if it's all just as easy and she and Puck apparently thinks.

"Kiss me," he says. Her smile turns into a frown as her eyes darken slightly.

"I thought you said we're going to try," she says quietly, looking at the ground.

"I don't really remember saying anything," he tells her bluntly. She looks up at him in surprise.

"Finn," she starts softly. He waits for her to say something else.

She doesn't.

"I can't hang out today," he finally tells her.

"Oh." She sounds timid, unsure of herself and he's never heard her sound like this before. "You can't, or you won't?"

"I have physiotherapy. I have to go to the hospital. Maybe tomorrow or something," he finishes, because the look on her face makes him feel bad for being kind of mean. He's never been mean to her before.

Her face clears up, and she's smiling again.

"I can take you," she offers. "To the hospital."

"He's got a ride Fabray." He turns in surprise to find Puck sneering at the girl in front of him as he walks up to them.

"Oh. Puck. Hey," she answers half-heartedly. Finn looks between them in confusion.

"Aren't you late for Cheerios practice?" Puck asks.

"I'm here to see my-"

"What? Boyfriend? Catching up huh? I'm sure you have a _lot_ to talk about."

If looks could kill, he figures the way Quinn's glaring at Puck would have turned him into vapour, but as it is, all he does is stare back, and for the second time that day, Finn gets the feeling like he's in the middle of a bitch fight. Quinn breaks into a cool smile, choosing to turn and look at him instead of answering Puck.

"Tomorrow kay?" she says, smiling warmly at him as she takes hold of his hand and squeezes it affectionately.

She moves to lean up, but stops abruptly halfway, and settles for another squeeze before she says goodbye.

Xxx

"What the hell was that?" he asks quietly as they both make their way to the parking lot.

"What the hell was what?"

"That thing back there with Quinn."

Puck shrugs his shoulders, looking forwards.

"I don't like her?"

"Since when?"

"Since always. That girl is a frigid bitch."

"Puck."

"What? Be nice? Look man, she was your girl and I respected that, but she's not anymore, or she's not yet or whatever so I don't _have_ to be nice her."

"And if she is?" Puck shrugs.

"Then fine, I'll play nice. I gotta warn you though, I don't think Berry will."

"Yeah, well we'll see," he mumbles as he pushes his body up into Puck's truck by his hands. "Once she stops going AWOL anyway."

The drive to the hospital is fairly quiet, save for Metallica playing in the background. He sends his mom a text telling her that he's with Puck.

He sends another text to Rachel.

_(What was up with today? Why did you ignore me at lunch? Are you mad at me?)_

It takes two songs before she replies.

_(Sorry Finn. I didn't notice you. Of course I'm not mad, why would I be?)_

He thinks catching someone's gaze and then making a beeline towards the other direction is like, the opposite of not noticing someone.

_(You act like you're mad.)_

_(Well I'm not)_

He reads the last text for the second time angrily, irritated by the three, short words on his screen. She's not mad. Yeah. _Sure_.

_(Fine.)_

_(Fine.)_

He looks up as Puck swears under his breath.

"Fuck, dude I totally forgot about Polka dots."

"What?" he asks, confused for a second. He rolls his eyes when it hits him. "Her name's Leslie."

"Yeah, but she likes Polka dots better."

He stares at his friend in amazement.

"How the _hell_ does that work for you?" he asks in disbelief. Puck smirks.

"It's all in these guns," he tells Finn, taking one hand of the wheel to flex his muscles.

He rolls his eyes. He can hear her voice at the back of his mind.

"_You're abhorrent,"_ she'd say. Finn growls as he looks out the window, annoyed that his brain is still thinking about her when he doesn't want it to.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Just a short little update from me, because this story has been sorely neglected. This is somewhat of a filler chapter, since I've decided to break it in two to post this part first for all of those that has been asking me for an update. I hope you enjoy this, short as it may be, and as always, any and all feedback are most welcomed =)**

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><p><em>Yeah I'm alive<em>  
><em> But I don't need a witness<em>  
><em> To know that I've survived<em>

* * *

><p>His anger lasts for less than 24 hours. He realizes at three in the morning that he's not even pissed anymore, just upset. Because obviously, something is bothering her, and who knows, maybe it doesn't even have anything to do with him.<p>

He realizes that it's the first time in months that he's gone almost a whole day without speaking to her, and maybe that's why it's so hard for him to fall asleep. Plus, maybe she's just going through one of those PMS things again. She told him all about that, and a few other things he could have gone through his whole life _without_ knowing, and her tendency to get a little insane, more than usual anyway, for a few days every month. Although, he's pretty sure that's not supposed to happen until at least the middle of the month.

He frowns, turning on his side to face the wall, careful not to put too much pressure on his injured leg.

He'll confront her tomorrow, he tells himself. For now he needs to get some sleep if he even hopes to wake up in time for school.

Xxx

His mom wakes him up by putting his alarm clock right next to his ear, causing his eyes to blear open in surprise. _Jesus_. He'd thought the coddling would last for a least a few more weeks.

"You're going to be late," she simply tells him when he glares at her, pressing a kiss to his forehead before she leaves his room. Trying to get ready in record time is still a chore, and when he finally stumbles into the kitchen, Puck's already inhaling half of his breakfast.

"Hey! That's mine douchebag," he says, hitting the back of Puck's chair with his crutch.

"Learn to share fetus-face. You know this is the only place a guy can go to get some decent bacon around here," Puck answers with a mouthful of food, grinning at his mom who's shaking her head at the both of them.

"Not my fault your mom's like super-religious," Finn answers, rolling his eyes as he snatches the bacon from Puck's fingers. His friend flips him off when his mom's back is turned before standing from his chair.

"Let's go Frankenteen. We're gonna be late."

"Since when do you care?" he mutters, downing his bacon with a glass of orange juice before he follows Puck out the door, sending his mom a small wave.

Xxx

"You gotta see your shrink later?"

"It's _physiotherapy_ Puck," he answers, rolling his eyes as the truck flies across another bumper. "The dude's not a shrink."

"Whatever. You going back to the hellhole or not?"

"Yeah I'm going."

"Is 3.30 okay?"

He turns to look at Puck in surprise.

"You wanna take me there again?"

"How else are you gonna go?"

He shrugs, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"I dunno, but you're acting funny."

"The hell you talking about?"

"You, acting like a decent guy. What did you do Puckerman?" he asks, only half teasing.

He wonders if the flash of guilt he sees on Puck's face is just his imagination.

"Think of it as my consolation for you being a football has-been," Puck answers, shrugging.

"You're an asshole," he shoots back wryly, rolling his eyes as he leans back against his seat.

It's still a little too soon for _that_ to be funny.

Xxx

They make it to school with ten minutes to spare, and he hightails out of the truck, ignoring Puck's calls as he rushes to her locker. It's a little hard to manoeuvre around all the students milling about, but he catches sight of those knee socks, purple today, with sequins lined all the way up their sides, matched with a purple skirt and a yellow sweater. She has her face in her locker and he steels himself as he gets closer.

"Hey," he calls out when he's close enough. She turns expectantly, and he tries not to take it too personally when she frowns at the sight of him.

"Oh. Hi Finn."

She doesn't say anything else, and they both just kind of stand there like idiots for a while because she's always been the one to talk his ear off. He's not really used to being the one trying to initiate a conversation.

"So.. erm, busy day?"

"A little," she concedes. "I have my tutorial sessions every Wednesday to catch up on schoolwork, so my schedule is packed for the day."

"Right. So erm- are you, you know, okay?"

"Of course," she answers shortly, slamming her locker closed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugs.

"You were acting pretty funny yesterday, and I mean, at first I was kinda pissed 'cause you were kinda being a jerk, but then I figured maybe you're like, PMS-ing or something even though you usually don't get that way until at least another week or two, so-"

"Finn."

He realizes that he's rambling, and she looks kind of like she's trying not to laugh at him right now, which is good, 'cause he wasn't trying to be funny at all.

"Oh. Right, sorry. I forgot we weren't supposed to talk about things like that," he says, tugging at the strap of his backpack in embarrassment as she lets out a small giggle. "Anyway, I just wanted to know if you're okay."

"I'm fine," she answers, finally shooting him that familiar gigantic smile of hers. He smiles back in relief, relaxing his stance as he grins at her. "I was just- I was just a little upset at something."

"Did someone piss you off?"

She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't look him in the eye either.

"Did _I_ piss you off?" he asks slowly. She shakes her head, but she's still not looking him in the eye.

"Rachel-"

"Hi Finn."

They both turn to find Quinn smiling at him. She turns to Rachel with that smile still in place.

"Good morning Rachel."

"Morning," Rachel answers quietly. He grabs the back of his neck, feeling just slightly annoyed with Quinn's presence. He's having enough trouble as it is trying to deal with _one_ girl at a time, he does not need to have two in one go.

"Hey Quinn," he answers her briefly before turning back towards Rachel, who's still eyeing Quinn with a small frown on her face. "Rach-"

"So you need a ride today?" Quinn cuts in.

"A ride where?" he answers distractedly.

"To the hospital silly. Remember you told me yesterday that we're going to hang out later?"

He turns to look at Quinn in confusion.

"I didn't-"

"I need to get to class," Rachel cuts in. He turns back towards her in dismay.

"But-"

"I'll see you later?" she asks, sending him a small smile. That's much better than the frown she wore yesterday, so he'll take it.

"Sure. See you at lunch?" he asks hopefully.

"Okay," she answers, smiling. She sends him a little wave even though she's still right in front of him, and he watches as she bounces off, until Quinn clears her throat. She turns to find her smiling brightly at him.

"So... today?"

"Sorry Quinn," he answers apologetically, 'cause he does feel kind of guilty for blowing her off, even though he's still not sure if he can be alone with her for more than five minutes. "I'm going with Puck today."

"But-"

"Plus, you got like, cheerleading practice or something right?"

"I can skip one practice," she answers, frowning.

"Nah, you don't wanna be a bad captain," he tells her, straightening up when the bell rings. "I'll see you around Quinn."

He smiles at her briefly before he turns around, preparing to hobble off in Math.

"You're avoiding me," Quinn says to his back. He stops to turn around and finds her walking right up to him. "I think you're afraid to get close to me," she says confidently. "You think I'm going to hurt you again."

She rests her hand on his currently holding onto his crutch. He doesn't say a word because, is that it? Is that the reason why he feels so hesitant? The hallway is starting to clear up, but he can't look away from that soft smile on her face as she steps closer to grab his fingers.

"I didn't become cheerleading captain in sophomore year by giving up easy, so you should know that I'm not giving us up that easy either."

She leans up to kiss his cheek, ignoring the way he freezes up unwittingly.

"I'll see you later Finn," she tells him with a smile before she turns to walk away.

Xxx

Rachel's back to acting all Rachel-like again by the time lunch rolls around, and he's glad because school's just a little more bearable when she's around to make him laugh. He had seen her sitting by herself, and made a beeline straight to where she was when he entered the cafeteria to look for her. Her beam was wide when she saw him and he grinned, plopping down on the seat next to her as she began to launch into an animated tale of her parents' apparently riveting argument on Judy Garland and Natalie Wood. He would have said something, if he had a clue who any of those people were.

As it is, all he does is nod his head every time she looks up, quietly working on his sandwich in contentment. Her familiar presence has already put him in a much better mood than yesterday. Rachel's on a roll and she doesn't stop for anything, not even when Puck plops down on the other side of her and grabs a handful of her organic potato chips to pop into his mouth.

"Shit Berry. How the hell did you manage to find the _one_ type of potato chip that tastes like feet?" Puck complains through a mouthful of food as he cringes. She rolls her eyes as she snatches her food away.

"Mrs Puckerman is always so pleasant at mass, I wonder how she ended up with a ruffian like you for a son," she says snootily to Puck.

"Well see, Berry, when a man and woman fuck, sometimes it leads to-"

"_Jesus_ Puckerman," he cuts in, glaring at Puck as Rachel gasps in outrage. "Cut it out!"

Puck shrugs, reaching over her to grab the other half of his sandwich.

"What's up with you two today anyways? Did you two kiss and made out in the janitor's closet or something?"

"Noah Puckerman-"

"Puck, dude, you're embarrassing her," Finn hisses as he cocks his head towards Rachel's bright pink features. "Seriously shut up. We're just friends."

"Yeah, whatever," Puck answers, looking at Rachel's tomato face wryly. "Anyway, Coach cancelled practice today since she needs to work with Evans before the game next Friday, so we could totally bounce at three."

"Where are you two going?" Rachel asks curiously as she turns towards him. He fakes a groan as he finishes his food.

"I've got a meeting with the Slavedriver," he complains.

"Oh," she answers quietly, looking down. Puck looks at them curiously and he shrugs. He doesn't really know what's going on with her either. "I thought you were going with Quinn?"

_Oh_.

"Nah," he answers easily. "She has cheerleading practice. You know, cheer captain and all that."

She brightens considerably after that, not even batting an eyelash when Puck goes on to brag about his latest conquest, Polka Dots (he rolls his eyes at this), and when the bell rings, she turns to him with a huge smile as she slides a brown paperbag into his hand.

"They're cookies," she answers at his questioning look. "I made them with my fathers, and saved some for you, which is no easy task I tell you. They may look fit and handsome, but they eat like pigs."

"Awesome!" he grins, turning the bag into his body as Puck reaches out for it. "Thanks Rachel."

"No problem." She leans up to kiss his cheek before she bounds away, and he grins after her.

"Don't even think about it," he mutters as Puck's hand creeps towards the bag again.

"Dude," Puck whines. "_C'mon_."

"No way. They're mine."

Xxx

He huffs as he leans against Puck's locker. So much for being early, it's already ten minutes past three. Where the heck is the dude?

"Finn!"

He looks up in surprise to find Rachel running towards him, her face red.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"I wanna go with you," she says breathlessly. "I mean, I'll take you to the hospital. I already told Puck, which is why he's not here. Sorry I'm late."

He frowns.

"But I thought you have your tutorial today?"

"Artie's a personal tutor," she answers dismissively. "And he'd much rather spend his time Tina Cohen-Chang anyway."

"I have no idea who that is."

"It's a girl in our class."

"Oh. Okay, but-"

Her smiling face drops before he could finish his sentence.

"I mean I think it's totally awesome if you could," he starts again hastily. "But are you sure you don't mind?"

She smiles brightly up at him.

"Not at all. Besides, you still haven't told me about your first day," she says as she turns and they walk together side by side.

"What about it?"

"Well I told you all about mine, it's only fair that I listen to you too."

"There's nothing really. Kinda boring."

She rolls her eyes in good nature.

"Use more words Finn."

"I'm glad you're here," he says instead. She stops walking abruptly and turns to look at him, smiling shyly.

"Really?"

"Totally. School without you kinda sucked, even if it was for just a day.

Xxx

He's kind of cramped in her car, 'cause it's like really tiny and it's super uncomfortable, but she tried to push the seat back for him as far as it could go, helping him place his crutches in the back seat.

"It's pretty cool that you're driving," he tells her as she pulls out of the parking lot. "I mean I thought you'd be like John, you know? He couldn't get behind the wheels for months."

"It did scare me a little in the beginning," she admits. "But daddy always said that the only way to face something, is to charge at it, head-on, so after two weeks of hysterically crying every time I drove, I learned to get used to it," she finishes, shrugging. He chuckles at the mental image that description brought.

"You're pretty amazing, you know that?" he tells her quietly. He sees the faint blush start to spread over her features. "I mean, you just go out there and like, _charge_ at everything. It's totally awesome.

"Thank you." She doesn't say anything for a while and they fall into a comfortable silence. "You can do it too, you know," she tells him quietly a few minutes later.

He grins at her.

"Head-on, huh? Just like that?"

"Just like that," she reaffirms.

He almost believes that it's that easy when she's the one telling him that it is.


	11. Relapse

**A/N: Yes, it has been a while. I hope you're still reading. This chapter covered only half of what I planned, but I'm posting it anyway because I can't be sure how it'll take to complete the next part. Thank you so much for all your reviews and also PMs pushing me to continue this, because the motivation helped a lot =)**

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><p>He manages to sleepwalk through all of his classes for close to a month, before anyone starts to notice. He's finally starting to get used to things like people avoiding eye contact with him when he walks through the halls, ignoring the posters on the walls with Sam's name and Quarterback 1 written on them, and especially at avoiding the Bieste by any means necessary, which means that he's had his fair share of classes that he interrupted in a hasty attempt for retreat. She cornered him once, and it was all but torture as he tried not to hightail out of Spanish while she lays on the sympathy real thick.<p>

"I'm always around big guy," she told him, like that was supposed to make things better or something. He hates that more than anything else. He doesn't mind the eyes at the back of his skull as much as those looks he gets from the few people who keeps telling him that they're "around for whatever".

Great. Awesome. Thanks, but no thanks.

Xxx

He doesn't need to talk. What the hell is there to say? Something shitty happened, and now it's time to get over it. So it's taking him a little time with that part, why does everyone need to know about that anyway?

Xxx

He has lunch with Rachel every day, and he appreciates the fact that Puckerman has seemingly abandoned the 'cool' table to join them. Puck and Rachel bitch at each other about ninety percent of the time, but he's totally used to that by now, and it barely phases him. He already has that meaningful glance and annoyed glare down pat to be honest, and Lunch is still the only period during school that doesn't feel like borderline torture to him.

Quinn smiles at him from across the hallway from time to time, but other than that she's pretty much left him alone, so he guesses she's not really working all that hard on getting him back, but whatever. He kind of has enough shit to not deal with already to add that to the things he's trying to ignore.

Xxx

It's during US History, and about the sixth pop quiz in a row that he knows jackshit about, that he finally gets that call. He's almost relieved at the thought of getting to escape feeling like a complete moron for once, but then he remembers where he's going and scowls again as Mr Jacobson writes him a hall pass.

He takes a slow walk, the long way, from class up to miss Pillsbury's office on the other side of school. Since she has nothing better to do than to wait around for him to talk to her, than she can just wait a little longer.

He hates this feeling, like he's boxed in with everyone closing in on him, demanding him to tell them how he feels. For one thing, he doesn't want to because it's none of their damn business, and for another, he doesn't know okay? Apart from a big blank space in his head, occasionally filled with a crippling fear that he can't explain, he doesn't know anything.

He can see miss Pillsbury through her clear glass door, frowning as she looks down at a file or something. He sighs, dragging his still busted leg on the floor as he pushes himself with his crutch, still watching her as she looks up to squirt some sanitizer onto her hand. She sees him and smiles, her wide eyes widening just a little bit more.

Here goes nothing.

Xxx

"Your teachers tell me that you seem to have a little… trouble, coping with the school work."

He nods just a little, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks. 'Trouble' wouldn't be the word he'd use, more like utterly hopeless, but he appreciates her attempt at subtlety.

He grins as he unwittingly remembers Rachel explaining it to him once, subtlety and how it works (whatever. How does "I'm free today," translates into "Let me drive you to the hospital and wait for two hours while you face the therapy nazi Finn."?), which is kind of ironic now that he thinks about it, because Rachel's like, the least subtle person he knows, and that's part of why he likes her so much.

Miss Pillsbury clears her throat and he snaps back into attention. She's smiling kindly at him, and he knows that look. It's the look he gets right before-

"My office is always open to lend an ear Finn."

That.

"Erm. Thanks."

"Miss Prior has been filling me in on your condition. Natalie Prior," she continues when he looks at her in confusion. _Oh Natalie, right._ He nods. "I know this is hard for you, talking about your situation, but it helps."

So he knows she's a guidance counsellor and all, but the idea of telling her how he feels does _not_ make him feel any better.

"Yeah."

Miss Pillsbury is still smiling at him, and he tries to at least smile back, until she falters a little.

"At least tell me how the classes are going for you."

"It's- well I guess you know that it's not going very well," he stammers ruefully.

She nods.

"I mean, I missed out on a _lot_. And like, I don't- I guess sometimes I don't know what's going on."

More like _all_ the time, but he won't tell her that. She nods again, smiling at him sympathetically like she understands. She probably does. She probably gets high school burnouts in here a _lot_. The ones that aren't too busy keying the side of her car anyway. Miss Pillsbury's looking at him funny, and this is making him feel all kinds of awkward.

"Sometimes," she starts slowly. "Sometimes people need to take some time off, to recuperate… _reenergize_ for the next phase of their lives."

"O-kay…"

"Finn," she says seriously. "I- your teachers have discussed this at length. And, this is in no way a reflection of your capabilities in general. But- but in light of the circumstances, we think it's best if maybe you take some time to adjust."

She smiles at him again, and he can't be bothered to hide his confusion. Miss Pillsbury really sucks at trying to make him understand her subtlelty.

"I thought that was what I've been doing."

"Finn," she starts gently. "Graduation is barely three months away."

"I know," he says slowly, feeling the weight coming down on his shoulders at the way she can't seem to really look him in the eye. She looks real sorry, and nothing good ever happens when someone looks real sorry while talking to him. He thinks of those pop quizzes, of the month long confusion that led to complete listlessness as he blocked out every single class.

He wonders why he's so surprised.

Anyone could have seen this coming.

Unless it's him, obviously.

"And at the rate you're going, we just-"

"I get it."

xxx

Rachel's been taking vocal classes. She tells him this one day, her tone all hushed and quiet like it's a secret or something, and he beams at her and tells her that it's awesome because it is.

"My voice is terrible," she moans to him as he lies on his bed and stares up at the leak on his ceiling. He finds that keeping your attention focused on something stupid like that works well at blocking out everything else. Except Rachel of course. He's starting to think that there's nothing he could ever do that could block out Rachel Berry.

She's been there for about ten minutes, and he's pretty sure he's heard about fifty different variations of how terrible her voice is now. Yeah, she likes to talk about herself a _lot_. But he doesn't mind really. She doesn't get pissed at him when she knows he's not really listening sometimes like Quinn used to, and sometimes he thinks she'd just about explode if she doesn't unload to someone, and he doesn't really mind that it's him she chooses to talk to. Besides, she always ends her speech by asking him how he is, and he never really has anything to say anyway.

"Your voice is awesome," he tells her a little absent-mindedly. He's totally telling the truth too. He heard her when they sang together in the hospital, and if that was what she sounds like when she's terrible, he can't wait to really listen to her when she's good again.

"It's satisfactory," she corrects him. "And satisfactory is unacceptable by my standards. I need to be _outstanding_."

There goes those crazy eyes again. He grins.

"And you will be," he says earnestly, sitting up. She's sitting on the edge of his bed, her right leg resting over her left, and the position pulls her already short skirt up a little higher. He pretends not to notice the extra inch of bare thigh that stops just below her knees (because come on. She's _Rachel_. He's not supposed to think about her like that anyway), and looks back up at her. She's blushing, looking down as she subconsciously tucks her hair behind her ears before quickly pushing them back to cover them up. He frowns. He hates it when she does that, like she feels the need to hide her scars from him or something.

The truth is he barely notices them anyway.

She looks up at him and smiles.

"Thanks Finn," she murmurs. He shrugs.

"It's the truth you know."

"Well," she says, shuffling a little further onto his bed to make herself more comfortable. Now that's he's sitting up, she sits next to him, aligning her legs next to his as she leans back against the wall. "Now that we're done with my daily dose of complaints, what's up with you?"

He freezes for a second, Miss Pillsbury's face and her words flashing through his mind before he pushes them back again.

"Nothing," he answers, pulling on a bare thread on his shirt. She doesn't say anything for a while and he continues to pull on that thread until he hears her loud sigh.

"Talking to you can be very frustrating you know," she tells him, annoyed.

"Sorry."

"I don't want you to apologize. Especially not when you don't mean it. Why is it so hard for you to just tell me how you feel?"

"It's _not_. I just- I don't have anything to say."

"How can you go through 24 hours a day without having anything to say?" she demands. He tries his best to keep from rolling his eyes when she lets out a loud harrumph, crossing her arms as she looks at him.

"Maybe I just don't like talking about myself, okay?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demands, jumping up from his bed to glare at him.

"Nothing! Why does it have to mean anything?"

"Everything means _something_! Nobody says anything without meaning something Finn. They're _words_. Words-"

"Jesus Christ!" he yells, annoyed. "Nothing, okay? They don't mean anything! I just don't like to talk about myself, what is the big deal?"

"The big deal," Rachel says angrily as she stands right in front of him. "Is that you're _not_ dealing! I have been trying, for weeks, to get you to just talk to me, because I care about you, okay? And you won't say anything, but I _know_ this is hard for you. I can see how uncomfortable you look sometimes, but you won't tell me how you feel, and your mom-"

"What, are you talking about me behind my back now?" he cuts in, feeling the ire burning through his veins as he glares at her.

"Of course not! She merely expressed her concern-"

"_God_ I'm fine, okay? Why won't everybody just leave me alone about this? It's bad enough that mom's breathing down my neck every day, and the Bieste and miss Pillsbury trying to corner me in every damn _inch_ of that stupid school, now you wanna take a swing at it to?"

"We are not trying to corner you! We're trying to _help_ you-"

"Yeah, 'cause I'm too stupid to help myself right?" he snaps. Her eyes widen in anger at his words as she stomps her foot.

"_Nobody_ said that. I don't think you're stupid, you _know_ I don't! Stop putting yourself down-"

"Yeah well, you're the only one then, because Miss Pillsbury pretty much told me that I'm too stupid to graduate high school, so I'm not really 'putting myself down' am I?"

"_Finn_- what?" She stands in front of him now with her mouth wide open, and she looks almost comical with her large eyes and her hands that are now flailing against her side like she doesn't know what to do with them.

"I'm not graduating, okay," he says angrily, turning away from her. "Is that what you wanna hear? Or do you wanna hear about how much that _sucks_? About how I'm such a loser now that I can't even get a fucking high school diploma, and that you're right Rachel. I'm gonna be just another Lima loser high school dropout-"

"I _never_ said that-"

"And that I suck. I _suck_!"

He's yelling by now, and he knows it's startling her but he doesn't care, because what the fuck did he ever do anyway? All he ever wanted was to get the hell out of this place, and now he's stuck here for the rest of his pathetic life because he's just too stupid to get out in the first place. The frustration builds into anger, running through him, all along his veins until it drowns him and he barely sees the way she deflates, cautiously shuffling closer until her hand slides up his arm to rest on his shoulder. She squeezes softly and he flinches.

"Finn," she says softly, and he doesn't want to scream at her, it's the _last_ thing he wants to do. But he's so consumed with anger that if she tries to say anything right now, that's exactly what he'll do.

"I don't want to talk about it," he mutters, his voice tight.

"But-"

"Can you please leave?"

"Finn, please-"

"Close the door when you go, okay?" he says, shrugging off her grip as he lies back down, looking up at that leak on his ceiling.

He hears her quiet footsteps moving further away from him, and when he turns to look again, she's gone.

Xxx

She texts him an hour later, when he's still in bed, still staring at that leak on his ceiling.

(I'm sorry.)

What's she sorry for? Sorry that he sucks? Sorry that he's too stupid to even make it out of high school? Sorry that the only thing he was ever good at was football?

He doesn't reply. He stays on his bed until it's late, skipping dinner because his mom isn't home anyway.

Why bother really?

Why bother with anything?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope you won't be too hard on the poor guy, he's going through a lot.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: No your eyes are not deceiving you, this really is an update. Shocking, I know. Thank you to wood-u-like-2-no, who basically co-wrote this chapter with me to help me out of my writer's block. Some of Puck's best lines in this chapter came from him, so you can thank him for that too. Also to pinklunchboxrevenge (tumblr) and Picklepocket who lent their ears and listened to me whine about how this chapter was never going to happen. I hope the really, REALLY, long wait was worth it!**

* * *

><p>"Finndiot."<p>

"Remember that weekend you promised me?"

"Duh. Dude, it's gonna be badass. I've got-"

"Let's do it tonight."

"What?"  
>"Tonight. Let's do it tonight."<p>

"But… there's school tomorrow."

"When the hell did you start caring whether or not there's school tomorrow?"

"Hey, the Puckersaurus don't give a shit. You're the one always telling me-"

"Are you gonna waste my time talking about it or are we actually going to do shit?"

"Dude, what's up with you?"

"Nothing. I'm just ready to have some fun."

"What, the whole 'patient' routine starting to bore you?"

"Ha ha...very funny. Look just pick me up at eight or whatever."

"What about your mom?"

"My mom's doing the whole 24 hour shift thing or something. She won't even be here."

"Cool. Prepare to get stinking wasted. I'm gonna have to pull some strings here, what with doing things on the fly and all, but you're lucky the ladies love me."

"Whatever Puck."

Xxx

He sits on his doorstep, glaring daggers at the ground. His mom won't be home until late, and he's thankful for that at least because at this point, he's not sure if her can look her in the face and not just get pissed.

He's not sure he can do anything, really, and not just get really, really pissed. He knows it's wrong, okay? He knows he's not making any sense, and that's what bothers him the most, you know? He's so _angry_, and so _frustrated_ and he doesn't even know why, and that just makes him even angrier and even _more_ frustrated.

It just feels so pointless. He tries. He tries and tries and _tries_, but it kind of feels a lot like he's one of those hamsters caged in the back of Mr. Clarkson's bio lab. He had to clean out their cages once for detention, and he'd spent like ten minutes just staring at them at one point, as they kept running on their little wheels, running hard and going nowhere. That's kind of what he feels like. That's exactly what he feels like, like he's running and going nowhere (more like limping. Ha Ha).

And the more people try to help, the shittier he feels, because they don't _get_ it. They don't get that maybe- maybe he _can_'t. Maybe that's the point. He can't do it, he can't graduate, can't move on, can't do anything with his pathetic life because all he really is, is just another Lima loser. Worse. The worst Lima loser, who's meant for nothing more than spending the rest of his pathetic existence working as the school janitor or whatever.

He's not good enough for anything. He's too stupid to graduate high school, too weak to play football, or any other sport for that matter, which was really his only ticket for getting somewhere. He's nothing. And every kind word from his mother, or Rachel or whoever just keeps reminding him that he's nothing.

They're wasting their time on him.

Xxx

"Where are we going?" he asks wearily, finally getting his seat just right as Puck backs out of the driveway. Puck turns towards him, wearing his typical party mode face with a wide, crazy grin.

"Going _crazy_, motherfucker," Puck quips.

"Was that wit you tried to pull out of your ass?" he grumbles, not at all impressed. Puck rolls his eyes.

"You'll like it, okay?"

There's a pause of silence between them before Finn sighs, shrugging his shoulders as he leans back. He's well aware of the expectant look on Puck's face, and after a few seconds, decides that the ass won't stop looking and that they'll probably crash into a tree or something, and then he'll probably be permanently paralyzed this time.

"_What_?" he snaps in annoyance, looking straight ahead.

"You gonna fuckin' talk tonight, or you just gonna stare out the window? It's not really a great view, you know."

Finn shrugs and shifts a bit to make his leg more comfortable.

"What's there to talk about?"

"I dunno. Like you wanting to do this tonight, not Friday? You never wanted to do shit on weeknights 'cause of school."

"Maybe I don't care 'bout school anymore," he mutters, closing his eyes.

It's a dumb answer. And it almost gives everything away. Like, sure, he's not the best student to begin with, what with a C average and all, but it would have been enough to graduate _high school at_ least.

Before that hit took away any chance he had with football.

Before it knocked him into Stupidville, where he can't even cope enough to finish his classes.

He knows it's dumb, that a high school diploma is still better than dropping out, but it feels totally pointless. If he can't get to college, who gives a shit anyway? He knows how the world works. Without college, you're nothing. Less than nothing. And no sports and no diploma meant _no_ college.

No matter how you slice it, he's completely fucked.

"'Kay, cool," Puck's voice breaks through his thoughts. "You don't care. I mean, _I_ don't care neither. What the fuck has school ever done for us, right? But, dude...won't your Mom care?"

"You just _said_ you don't care." Finn snaps at him.

"I _don_'t."

"You sure? 'Cause right now you're sounding a lot like my mom. So shut the fuck up, _mom_, and just drive, 'kay?"

Puck rolls his eyes and looks at him, shrugging.

"Fine, beyotch. Be that way. Looks like you need what I got more than you know."

The ride is blissfully silent for a while after that. Puck makes a turning towards Breadstix, so he guesses that this means they're heading towards the college side of town. That's just _awesome_. If there was a place to go that Finn doesn't need to be reminded of, it's the side of town he'll never get to on his own. He sinks down in his seat a bit and closes his eyes again, trying to settle himself down.

After all, he doesn't need Puck against him too.

"Holy sh-..._dude_." Puck slaps him on the shoulder and Finn opens his eyes to glare at his friend. The other boy isn't looking at him but pointing at somewhere out the front window. "Isn't that...isn't that your _mom_?"

Finn frowns and turns in the direction where Puck's pointing. Sure enough, in the parking lot of Breadstix, there's his mom. His eyebrows knit together as he sits up abruptly in surprise. She's smiling, clearly happy while she walks arm-in-arm with a man who looks oddly familiar to him. Is that- Is that Kurt's _dad_?

_What the fuck is going on! _

"Isn't that the bald dude who runs the tire shop? Dude, why didn't you tell me your mom is bumping uglies with him?"

"I...I didn't know." Finn stammers, looking back through the rear window to try and catch another glimpse of what's happening. All he sees is his mom leaning her head on Kurt's dad as they walk through the doors of Breadstix. His hands are clenching the front seat before he knows it, and his head feels like its about to explode.

"Listen man," Puck starts, and it's taking a lot out of him not to bite the dude's head off right now. "If you guys are tight with the tire guy, think maybe I can get a discount on some tires? 'Cause, like, it's way past the time for these babies to go."

"Just...just shut _up_, okay? I don't know what's happening. She told me she was working."

Finn can feel the bile rise in his throat as his stomach weighs down with a leadend feeling. Was that really how much of a loser he is now? He's so useless, his mom doesn't even want to tell him these things? 'Cause, sure, having a date isn't a huge deal or anything, but she could have at least mentioned she was _dating_! That's pretty important stuff, right? Like, the kind of thing a teenage son should know so that if he sees a strange truck in the driveway, he doesn't freak out or something? How many 'overtime's and 'extra shifts' were just her fucking lying to him? How long has this been going on? Fuck, all those times he was feeling like shit because he thought she was working too hard to pay off his hospital bills, were they all lies? He turns towards Puck.

"Fuck, why didn't she tell me?" he asks quietly, more to himself than anything.

"Maybe she's doing a hit and split," Puck says nonchalantly. "No need to know if he's just a one nighter, right?"

He doesn't even control himself this time as he lets his fist crash into Puck's shoulder.

"Don't be an asshole, jackass. That's my MOM we're talking about."

Puck shrugs it off, barely flinching from Finn's punch. "Chill, dude. Mamas and Papas gotta get their mack on too. Better when you don't see or hear it."

"_Fuck_, Puckerman, shut up!"

Finn collapses back in the passenger seat, groaning loudly as he rubs a hand over his face. The image of his mom's head on Mr. Hummel's shoulder was so a picture he did _not_ need, nor of the imaginary one of her and Mr. Hummel..._yuck_!

Of course, that's when Puck decides to open his big fat mouth again.

"Dude, trust me, where I'm taking you, the _last_ thing you'll be thinking of is your mom or the tire guy. In fact, I guarantee you'll like what you see."

Finn swallows and rolls his eyes, preparing himself for the worst. Puck's made these claims before.

He knows better than to take his friend at his word.

Xxx

Okay, so the sights are definitely appealing. Or is that _revealing_?

Puck claps a hand on his shoulder, almost knocking him over in the process.

"Didn't I say you'd like what you see? Welcome to the Dirty Sanchez, my man. Leave your Finnocence at the door and follow me."

He moves almost blindly through the strip club, keeping his peripheral vision on his mohawked friend. He's never been to a club like this before, and everything is new. The men are eagerly watching the dancers on stage, the smell of alcohol is tickling his nostrils, and every woman in the place is gorgeous. Like, seriously drop dead gorgeous with curves in all the right places and bust lines that put the Kardashians to shame.

How the hell did Puck even know about this place?

Oh, right. It's Puck.

Who else _but_ Puck would know about this place?

After finding a table which gives the best views of both the topless waitresses and the dancers on stage, and struggling to actually sit down, Puck flags down the closest waitress while Finn absorbs everything. This wasn't entirely what he had in mind, but he can't bring himself to complain.

His eyes are wide as he takes in his surrounding. There's a voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like Rachel Berry telling him to avert his gaze. But who cares what Rachel Berry thinks anyway? _He_ doesn't, at least not tonight, and plus. It's their _jobs_ to get him to look, so screw that. His eyes follow Puck's hand as it waves towards the waitress by the bar, his gaze going straight towards her long, shapely legs tucked inside the shortest shorts he has ever seen in his life (he's pretty sure even the person who sweeps the floors in this place is probably a half naked woman).

Wait. His eyes narrow when they move up to her face. Is _she_ really coming over to serve them? Isn't that-

No fucking way!

"_Dude_. Isn't that-"

"Heya, Polka Dots!"

"Puck!" Leslie hisses as she hurries up to them, her large serving tray suddenly covering up her breasts. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

It's probably a good thing she's about ready to burst with anger and focusing her attention on Puck at the moment, because Finn's pretty sure he hadn't been looking at her face until she wasn't so naked from the neck down.

"Just out having a good time!" Puck clarifies, as he nods over towards the bar. "We need two Buds and a couple shots each of tequila."

"You're _underage_!" Leslie reminds him witheringly, refusing to glance at Finn once. He's trying not to notice the blush moving from her boobs up to her neck, but it's kind of hard when her chest is right up in his face.

"You are too." Puck reminds her just as quickly. "Should I let the manager know you're actually a high school senior, not a college senior? 'Sides, you set my man Finn and I up, and I can totally make it worth your time under the bleachers Friday."

Leslie purses her lips for only a moment before sighing and rolling her eyes.

"_Fine_. My tip better be good on this one."

"How 'bout I give you _my_ tip and we'll call it even, 'kay?" Puck says, while Finn cringes. Rachel would have dumped that tray right over his head by now. But Leslie isn't Rachel, and Rachel won't set foot in this place anyway, and it's time he forgets about what Rachel would do, because he's not supposed to care, remember?

Leslie leaves them to get their drinks and Finn feels his shoulder slapped as Puck moves his chair closer to his.

"This club is the absolute shit, Finnbecile. Ain't never had a bad time, and I've been comin' here almost two years now."

"No pun intended," Finn fires back, almost smiling.

"Pun _totally_ intended. Seriously, dude, just pick a girl and start talkin' to her. They let you know pretty quick if they're interested in a little personal time."

Finn rolls his eyes. Puck's totally his best friend and all, but the dude is an asshole who has a one track mind. And Finn's pretty sure nothing like that will help him get out of Lima.

"Strippers aren't hookers, Puck," he says, and he can almost hear Rachel say the exact same thing with that obnoxious tone she gets sometimes. _Fuck_, why can't she leave him alone?

"No shit Berry-clone. But that one is." Puck waves towards the other end of the bar where a sultry brunette sits, twirling her hair and surveying the crowd. "You give the word, and she's all yours man. My treat."

Finn's head snaps back to Puck so fast, it makes his brain spin.

"What the actual _fuck_, dude?" he hisses, annoyed. "I don't want a hooker! What kind of fucked up shit is that?"

Puck opens his mouth to retort, but shuts up when he sees Leslie coming towards them. They're silent as she places the drinks in front of them, each getting a bottle of Budweiser and two shots of tequila, and a suspicious glance before she rolls her eyes and walks away. Finn doesn't wait before he's downing the two shots, one right after the other in rapid succession. The sooner he can drown away the failure that is his life, the better.

He knows this isn't the best thing to do, 'cause he's been drunk before and it didn't make any of his problems go away, but right now he just needs a fucking break, all right?

"Shut up Rachel," he mutters into the empty shot glass, too quiet for Puck to hear him. He feels the tequila burning through his throat and settling in his stomach, and it doesn't make him feel a thing. Good.

Puck matches him, drowning his two shots and then throwing himself back in his chair, the beer already in his hand.

"Fine, then. What the fuck _do_ you want?"

"I want another drink."

"I'm serious Finn," Puck says quietly. He looks up to find his friend scrutinising him, and that itch beneath his skin gets harder to ignore.

"Oh is that your _serious_ face?" he says lightly instead, taking a big chug of his beer. "I didn't know you dropped your balls, Puckerman."

"That's my line, Finndiot," Puck shoots back, finally smirking. Finn shrugs, downing the rest of his beer before he waves at Leslie for more. He sees the troubled look on his friend's face, but fuck that. He didn't come here to talk.

xxx

"Congratulations dude," Puck's wry voice fills his ears. He only manages to make out an almost smile as he slips all the change he has into the stripper's tiny underwear, his untrained eyes losing sight of her the minute she turns.

"What?" he mutters. His speech is almost slurry, Rachel's voice is gone, he feels a proper buzz settling in, and his head hurts if he moves too much, so he's definitely on his way to getting plastered.

"I think that's the longest you've ever had a girl on you without blowing your load."

"Screw you asshole."

"Dude I'm serious. I mean we both know Quinn's not really the grinding type-"

"How would you even _know_ that?"

"I- well she's frigid as hell."

"Yeah she kind of was," he mumbles. He tries to think of more to say, but right now he can barely remember what Quinn looks like in the first place. Blonde, pretty, kind of mean sometimes. But- "But we did it in her house during junior prom. She wasn't that frigid _then_."

Puck doesn't answer him, and he turns to his side to find his friend's eyes focused solely on the dancing strippers on stage. He rolls his eyes, wincing when it hurts his head.

He thinks about Quinn again. Quinn who still wants him, who thinks that he's still the same old Finn from before the accident. He remembers the old Finn, and how he had his life figured out, the old Finn who still had hopes and dreams. It makes his head hurt, thinking, so he swipes Puck's beer instead.

xxx

"You're fucking depressing me, man," Puck comments. He doesn't know how long they've been here. Long enough that the sleazier, touchier assholes are starting to come in, long enough for him to smile apologetically when another gorgeous, topless girl offers him a lap dance that he had to refuse because all his money is gone, long enough for Leslie to worriedly order Puck to take him home (but he's still going strong). "You mope around all sad and pissed because you got injured, and I get it man. But _fuck_, you can't keep doing this."

"What, did my mom and Rachel get to you too?" he slurs out, annoyed.

He snickers when a mental image of his mom and tiny Rachel in her cupcake dress ganging up on Puck pops up in his mind.

"I just-," Puck starts hesitantly, ignoring his joke. "It looked like you were feeling better about things back in the hospital. And I thought-"

"What? That once I came back things were going to fall back into place? That it won't fucking kill me when I see posters of Sam Evans' face all over the school hallway this week? That I'll be fine with my _fucking_ life going nowhere?"

"Dude-"

"Adapt, right?" Finn slurs our sarcastically. He starts to stand, but the room tilts sideways so he sits back down impatiently. "That's what they told me. I need to _adapt_ to my fucking _situation_. Well how the fuck am I suppose to adapt? I'm not graduating!"

Puck shuts his mouth and stares at him, surprise etched on his features. Finn barely sees his friend's face, his hand reaching out blindly for anything that's not empty. The hilarity of the moment strikes him acutely, and he starts to laugh, giving up on his quest for more beer as he leans against his crutch, breathless.

"Yep. I can't adapt," he starts between giggles. "I can't do _anything_. I can't do football or sports, 'cause I busted my knee. And I spent so fucking long in the hospital, so _fucking_ long trying to heal and missed so much fucking _schoolwork,_ that now, I can't even graduate. You know what that means?" he asks quietly, sobering up just a little, before a sardonic smile pulls his lips upward humorlessly.

"Huh? It means I'm _stuck_ here, Puck. I'm fucking stuck in this fucking town and going fucking nowhere. So I guess I'm adapting to _that_, right? Adapting to being a Lima loser, but oh wait, I already was one before, so really, there's no fucking need to adapt to anything, which is a good thing I guess, since I'm so fucking useless and pathetic, I couldn't have done _that_ anyway."

"Finn-"

"_Don_'_t-"_ he says sharply, holding a hand up. "Don't try to make me feel better, okay? Don't try to tell me that you get it, or that you understand how I feel because- because I don't fucking _care_ if you do. I don't fucking care if _you_ care either, or if- if Rachel and my mom does, because it's not happening to any of you, okay? It's happening to _me_. And this is how I feel about it. Okay?"

Puck opens his mouth, and he prepares himself for a string of insults, or another round of arguments he's too drunk to have. But he guesses this is the reason why they're best friends, when Puck turns around to order another round of shots instead.

Xxx

"Where the _hell_ have you been!"

Finn hobbles past his Mom, snorting as he stumbles into their home. "Out."

"Out _where_?" His mom asks. Finn watches as she suddenly makes a face and takes a step back, covering her nose and mouth. "Have you been drinking?"

"Yep!" He stumbles again, trying to stand upright. Deciding to give up trying to keep his balance on a floor that's moving far too much for his liking, he lets go of his crutches. It falls with a clang on the floor as he leans against the wall to steady himself. Wow, he didn't know rooms in the house could spin so fast.

"You didn't tell me you were going out, Finn. I called you five times!"

Really? Man, his phone _sucks_. It's supposed to ring or blare or shake or do _something_ to let him know he's getting a call. Not just sit there in his pocket and do nothing. He frowns and pulls it from his pocket to see it listing all the calls he's missed. And it's blinking a little light in the corner. It's fucking blinking! Finn starts to laugh at how absurd that is.

"Sorry," Finn slurs. Wow, the room is spinning even faster now. But his Mom is standing there completely still. Like, she's glued to the floor. How does she do that? She can stand upright in a spinning room? She must have some badass balance skills he didn't know about. He holds up his cell. "Didn't hear the phone blink!"

"I was worried." she says quietly.

Again, he looks down at her, and she's looks so sincere and so upset at the same time, that he can't help but laugh again. He keeps chuckling as he hobbles by and pats her on the head. "I'm good. Never fear. Just..._oh_...need the bathroom I think."

Before he knows it, he's face-down in front of the toilet and puking his guts out. And holy _crap_, that feels horrible and awesome all at the same time. His stomach isn't bugging him anymore. If anything, he feels a bit hungry. But the burning in his throat and nose cancels out the desire for food. And since when does puke get in his nose? He thought it was bad just having it in his mouth, but fuck, it stings in his nostrils.

"I don't..._ugh_...don't feel too great."

"Serves you right for going out on a bender!" his mom says from the doorway, arms crossed, glaring daggers at him.

He turns his head to the side and notices her standing there, _completely_ pissed. It strikes him as hilarious that the word used to describe how she looks can also be used to describe his drunkenness. They're both pissed because she's angry and he's drunk. Even though angry and drunk are two totally different things. Well, they are to him, at least. How could anyone be angry _and_ drunk? He's seen others do it, but really, it's so easy to be happy when you're drunk. Why can't more people see that?

Finn giggles over the discussion going through his mind when suddenly his stomach lurches. He groans, turning his head quickly back to the toilet bowl. As the contents of his stomach leave via his oesophagus, he can hear his mother sigh and walk away. She returns a few minutes later, a glass of water in her hand. She flushes the toilet while he takes a sip. He watches as his mom runs a wash cloth under running water before she kneels next to him, pulling his head roughly towards her. He groans when it makes his head spin.

"You want to tell me why you're so inebriated?" her voice is quiet as she wipes his face, but there's a steeled firmness to it that would have gotten his attention at any other time. As it is, all he does is stare at her for a moment, his eyes blurring a bit, her form just a fuzzy outline. The last word seems to stick in his mind as something that makes no sense.

"Inebriated?"

"_Drunk_, Finn. Why are you drunk? How did you even _get_ drunk?"

Finn blinks a couple times. How _did_ he get drunk? Oh, right. That senior Puck's been getting busy with.

"It was Polka Dots, Mom. She gave them to us."

"Who's Polka Dots?"

"Puck's girl. She bangs him under the bleachers. Got a nice rack, too."

"_Finn_! Where did you learn that kind of language? That's completely inappropriate!"

"Just a metaphor." Finn's words stumble out of his mouth as he pushes himself away from her to lean against the wall. His stomach is killing him. "Rachel says metaphors are important."

"And did Rachel tell you to get hammered tonight?"

Finn thinks for a moment. Did she? He doesn't think so. No, Rachel didn't tell him to get hammered.

She told him she's sorry.

Everyone's _sorry_. That's the fucking problem. They're all sorry but they don't understand. He doesn't _care_.

"I'm going to bed." Finn tries to stand but his feet aren't working too well and only the corner of his foot seems to want to stay on the floor. He tries to pull himself up, but his arms feel like jelly. They aren't helping him much.

Fuck it. He can crawl.

He gets on his hands and knees, gritting his teeth at the pain shooting up his thigh as he slowly moves towards his bedroom. Carole watches him for a moment before coming beside him, his glass of water in her hand while the other is stretched out to him. "Here, let me help you."

"_Why_?" Finn almost shouts, snatching his arm away from her. He turns his head to look at her startled expression, falling back into a sitting position on the floor again.

"I don't need _help_, Mom. What I _need_ is for people to understand that they can't help me! I am _beyond_ help. I'm not graduating mom. But I'm sure you know that already, since _everyone_ is talking to everyone else behind my back about _me_."

"Finn-" He bursts out into angry laughter, leaning his head back against the sink.

"I have no knee! I have no grades. I have no shot at college. I'm stuck in this stupid fucking town for the rest of my life. And pretty soon I won't have a mom, because she'd rather lie and tell me she's working when she's dating behind my _back_!"

Carole's face turns white and Finn watches as she swallows in fear. He feels the guilt somewhere in the back of his brain trying to push through, but fuck that. He doesn't care that she's hurt, doesn't care that she's worried about him or trying to help his drunken ass get to his room. He doesn't really care about anything right now. Except for maybe the fact that his mom has been lying to him for who knows how long. Except for maybe the fact that everyone's been talking over him or behind him or about him, but never _to_ him, unless they're trying to give him a pep talk before dropping _another_ bombshell on him. Except for maybe the fact that he _does_ care, he cares too _fucking_ much and he _hates_ it.

"It's...it wasn't..." Carole takes a breath and plows ahead. "I didn't want to overwhelm you honey- I-"

"Why? Did you think that I wouldn't understand?" He stares up at her, ignoring the tell-tale signs of those lines on her forehead. He focuses all his attention on his feelings instead, feeling his temper beginning to burn, and his voice gets louder the more he speaks.

"Why wouldn't I _understand_ why my mom's dating the Lima Michelin Man? I wouldn't _understand_ it at all because I'm so _stupid_, right? Too stupid to stay good in sports, too stupid to graduate school. Too _stupid_ for my mom to be honest with me. It's just all me being _stupid_, isn't it? I_sn't it_!"

A big splash of cold water smacks him in the face and causes him to cough and sputter and fuck if it doesn't feel like he's drowning. He can't seem to catch his breath until he rolls over face down on the floor, gasping for breath. It takes him a few seconds to sort out that his mom had just literally thrown a glass of water right in his face.

"Enough with the pity party, Finn," she says in a clipped tone, and he's too busy trying to remember how to breathe so say anything. She doesn't anything else, but she holds her hand out towards him, and he determinedly ignores her. He thought that maybe if he screamed it would make him feel better, but the cold water jarred his senses and wiped out all of his anger and all he feels is tired. He's too tired to do anything.

He closes his eyes when he feels his mom squatting next to him. Her touch is gentle as she wipes away the sweat on his brow and it makes the back of his eyes burn.

"You are out of line tonight, young man," she says. Her tone is firm, but he open his eyes to find an almost weary look in hers as she continues. "We will talk tomorrow about what your punishment will be, and _believe_ me, it's going to be heavy. Now you're going to stop acting like an immature child and start being the eighteen year old young man that I raised you to be and accept my help, do you understand that?"

He wants to resist, but _fuck_, he's too drunk to do anything but nod like the idiot that he is.

"Good."

xxx

He wakes up with what he's pretty sure is the worst hangover of his life to find two aspirins and a bottle of water by his bedside. He wakes up at three in the afternoon, and his mom is gone.

But she leaves a note on the fridge, and she tells him that they're going to have a real talk tonight, and he knows he's in the doghouse. He doesn't remember much of what happened last night, past Puck dragging his drunk ass up to the front door. He knows it's bad though, because he has vague memories of puking in front of his mom and crawling like an idiot on the toilet floor. He cringes, both from the migraine and the memory of him making a complete fool of himself. Puck picks him up at four, looking just a little worse for wear, and the asshole laughs at his dishevelled appearance, not once apologizing for making him late for physio. He knows that coach Bieste lets Puck off early sometimes for his account, and it bugs him because he doesn't want charity, but he says nothing about it because he's in enough trouble as it is.

Terrence, still his own personal slave driver, apparently could spot a hangover from a mile away. He gets an extra half hour of crunch time for that, and a warning that the next time it happens, Natalie will get wind of it. Finn has half a mind to retort that the dude is _not_ his shrink, but he knows better by now than to mess with the guy that can make you physically hurt while claiming that it's good for you. If this is God's way of telling him to never get drunk again, then He's doing a pretty good job at almost making him listen (But then again, God would probably do an even better job at making him listen if he'd never busted his knee in the first place, so...).

He doesn't get home until it's almost six, and his mom is already waiting for him on the porch. Puck learns to be tactful the _one_ time Finn wishes that he wouldn't be, and declines his mom's invitation to stay for dinner. So it's quiet as he sets the table and sits dutifully on his seat while he waits for his mom to finish tossing the salad. She hasn't said a word since Puck left, and neither has he. It isn't until she finally takes her seat that she opens her mouth.

"I owe you an explanation," she starts calmly.

"Mom-"

"No, Finn. Listen to me. Burt and I, it's new. It's barely been a month and we still don't know how serious this is going to get. But you're right. I should have been honest with you. You deserve that much."

"I just- I was just surprised," he mutters, grabbing the back of his neck. "When I saw you yesterday."

"I didn't mean to hide it from you, Finn. We've always had a very open relationship, and I'm sorry for making you think that I would jeopardize that for anything."

"I'm sorry for overreacting."

"I accept your apology. But you're still in big trouble young man."

"I know."

"Leaving the house _without_ telling me?" She starts, listing out his mistakes as he shrinks in his seat. "_Not_ answering your phone, getting _drunk_ God knows where, and coming _home_ in your state?"

"I know."

"I'm giving you a chance to explain yourself Finn, because I know that you're better than this."

She waits expectantly for him to say something, and he knows she wants more than just his apology, but he can't seem to get his mouth to move.

"I was just- I'm sorry."

xxx

"You're grounded. For two whole weeks."

"Okay," he answers quietly, struggling to stand and collect the dirty dishes. He feels his mom's eyes on him as he slowly shuffles to the sink.

"We're worried about you," she finally says. He turns on the tap, ignoring that itch under his skin. "We weren't trying to go behind your back, Finn. But it's hard to talk _to_ you when you won't talk back."

He doesn't say a word as he picks up the first plate.

"You're going to have to talk to someone sooner or later Finn. Even if it's not me."

xxx

Rachel left him about a million missed calls and texts in the past two days. He doesn't return any of them. It's not because he's mad at her or anything. In fact he's pretty sure that by now it's the other way around. He just- he just doesn't know what to say to her. He knows he should probably start by saying sorry for blowing her off. And for getting pissed and taking it out on her. She didn't deserve that. She doesn't- well he doesn't deserve to have a friend like her anyways.

xxx

He's been waiting at Rachel's locker for almost ten minutes now. He's seriously hoping that she's not avoiding him. She might, since she didn't answer any of his texts (He only sent two, at like 2 a.m. last night. But still).

A hand touches his arm and he jumps a little, pasting a smile on his face as he prepares to face her wrath.

"Hey- Oh. Hi Quinn," he says, deflating when he sees his ex-girlfriend standing next to him instead. Quinn smiles up at him, taking his hand.

"Hi Finn. Are you waiting for Rachel? I don't think she's coming by this morning."

He frowns.

"How do you know that?"

"Oh, I just saw her walking to Miss Peterson's class with Puck."

"Puck?" he repeats, confused. Since when did Rachel and Puck start hanging out together without him?

"Mmhmm. So anyway Finn, what are you doing tonight?"

She smooths out the collar of his shirt like it's something she does everyday (it used to be), nonchalantly pressing her fingers against his neck.

"Nothing," he answers, turning his head to slip out of her hold.

"Great. There's a party at my house tonight, after the game-"

"I'm grounded," he blurts out. She narrows her eyes as she looks up at him. "Yeah. So you know, sorry Quinn. But I can't."

"You're trying to avoid me again," she states.

"No, really. My mom just grounded for the next two weeks."

Her brows furrow together as she looks up at him, trying to determine whether or not he's lying.

"Okay," she says once she's satisfied. "So if you weren't grounded, you'll go?"

Honestly, a football party is the last thing he wants to go to.

"Yeah."

She smiles then, grinning up brightly at him before she leans up to kiss his cheek.

"Good. I'll pick you up at nine."

"But I just said-"

"Don't worry about that Finn. I'll handle it. Now I have to go to class, but I'll see you later, okay?"

She doesn't wait for him to answer as she bounds down the hall. He shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders as he starts to hobble towards Spanish. Here comes another day of school.

xxx

So he doesn't know what the hell Quinn told his mom, but whatever it was it worked, because here he is, cramped up in the backseat of Quinn's car with her and Santana. She even told him to have fun, "but no drinking!". Like, what is going on? Quinn and Santana are giggling over something, God knows what, and all he's thinking about is now he remembers why they always used to use his truck, because her car can fold him in half it's so tiny. Then again, Rachel's car is only a little bit bigger than this, even though she's tinier than Quinn. He couldn't find her at school today. He asked Puck where she was during lunch, and Puck told him that she left early to go on some weekend trip with her parents, and it was only a little annoying that _Puck_ knows about this.

Anyway, she still hasn't returned his texts, but he doesn't want to smother her, so he stopped texting. And-

"_Finn_!" His head snaps up to find an almost exasperated Quinn looking at him, one hand on her hip as she stands in front of the open car door.

"We're here," she tells him, smiling.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

xxx

Her hand is on his back as he hobbles slowly up the steps of her house. He can hear the loud music pounding against the door, and he doesn't have to ask if her parents are out of town this week when two freshmen from the reserve football team almost walked into him while carrying a keg. He stops short near the door, his heartbeats rising rapidly in time without the fast music at the idea of all the people he used to know standing behind Quinn's door. He feels her small palm running soothing circles on his back and relaxes.

"It's going to be fine Finn," Quinn murmurs as she stands next to him. "You're going to be fine."

He looks down at her, and her smile is reassuring enough for him to let out a breath. He hears a loud whistle, and the music dies down while he nods his head slowly.

"Ready?" Quinn asks him as she stands at her door.

"Yeah, sure."

She pushes it open, and he frowns at the darkness as he shuffles in.

"What's goin-"

His words stop short when the lights go on, and his eyes zero in on the large banner hanging over the mantelpiece that says "Welcome back Finn", his ears drowning in a sea of people screaming out the same thing at him. He looks down to find his old friends, most of the football team and all the Cheerios, smiling expectantly at him as he stands rooted to the doorway.

"Oh wow," he says out loud, and for some reason, everyone thinks that this is funny. He laughs along with the rest of them, turns to find Quinn beaming up proudly at him.

"You did all this?" he asks, surprised. She nods.

"I figured you could use a big welcome home party."

xxx

He goes on for almost an hour before the crowd starts to overwhelm him and he slips out the front door. Puck's not here, and it's probably because of that stand-off he has with Quinn. Finn wonders vaguely about what happened between the two of them, but he's soon distracted by Mike Chang, coming out of the party to say goodbye because he has to leave early.

It's been a weird hour, with everyone coming up to him and talking to him like all he's been doing for past six months was just going off to camp or whatever. The fact that he can't play anymore only came up once when Sam came up to him, awkwardly telling him that he was sorry. It hit him then, that he really wasn't as pissed at Sam as he thought he was. It just made him sad when he shrugged it off as Sam told him that the dude was going to try to live up to his name as captain.

They asked him what the hospital was like, and laughed when he told them it was like a hospital, even though it wasn't really a joke, and when Brittany Pierce came up to him and asked him if she could sign his crutches, about five other Cheerios came up to do the same thing. So now there are doodles on his crutches (he's pretty sure that cat face came from Brittany), and he wonders if they can come off.

The front door opens again, and this time it's Quinn, smiling when she sees him.

"I thought I might find you here," she says quietly. He's sitting down on her porch swing, and she joins him, offering him the cup of beer that she's nursing.

"No thanks," he says. "I'm not allowed to drink."

"Doctor's orders?"

"My mom's," he answers wryly. Quinn laughs, nudging his shoulder. They sit quietly for a few minutes as she nurses her beer and he stares at the doodles on his crutches.

"Thanks," he murmurs. "You know, for the party."

"I figured you could use one night of fun," she says. "I know it feels like they don't, but they care about you Finn. They just don't know how to show it. I- I care about you."

He doesn't say anything to that. He doesn't know what to say to that.

"So, how long do you have to use that thing?" she asks. He shrugs.

"Terrence said that I can go off it in a few weeks or so."

"Terrence?"

"He's my physiotherapist."

"Oh. How's your- how's your leg doing?"

"It's okay. I mean, sometimes it still hurts, especially at night when it gets cold. But other than being annoying, it's okay."

"I- I'm sorry, Finn."

"I know. You said that already," he jokes quietly. "Remember?"

She doesn't smile this time, and he knows she means it from the miserable look on her face.

"Really," he says, nudging her. "I'm over it."

There's silence, before she starts to speak again.

"Are you over _me_?" she whispers.

"Quinn-"

"You know, there are a lot of memories here."

"I- yeah."

"Remember the first time you came over?" He snorts at the memory and nods his head.

"Yeah. I was so nervous I knocked over your mom's flower arrangement, and your dad has hated me ever since."

"He doesn't hate you Finn-"

"He _hates_ me Quinn."

"Okay fine, he does," she answers, rolling her eyes at the smug look on his face. "But only because, you know, you were the first guy I ever loved besides him."

"Quinn," he whispers softly. He doesn't know what's happening, but they're so close he can feel her breath against his neck. She smells familiar, like flowers, like that perfume he never remembers the name of but he knows makes up part of who she is since the moment they met. She smells like Quinn, and he remembers their first kiss on her front porch, and their first time in her room, and the first time she ever told him that she loves him in his mom's car in her driveway when they were sixteen.

"I _miss_ you," she says quietly, leaning closer.

"I'm not- I'm different now," he says. "I'm not that guy anymore Quinn, you know?"

"But you're still _Finn_."

"I don't know who that is anymore."

"_I_ do."

He turns to face her, and their noses brush from the proximity. Her gaze is confident, a small smile playing on the corner of her lips.

"I _know_ you," she murmurs. Does she really? Because he sure as hell doesn't. He smiles, lips pulling upward to his right. He leans forward, their lips brushing together as she breathes out into their kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Patience, my dear readers, and I promise I'll try not to wait for the new year before I update the next time =P**


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